Hubert  Henry  Davies 


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LCility  COMEDY    IN   THREE  ACTS 


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THE  AMAZONS    ^"■<'®*"Tl»'"eoAot8.    seven  amies,  five  lemales. 
Costumes,  mod»)ni ;  g<'enery.  not 'litfioiiU.    Plays 
a  full  evening. 

THE  CABINET  MINISTER  f    r    .  .  "    .7 

femaios.  costumes,  modern  society ; 
scenery,  three  Interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

BANDY  DICK    ^*^^^  ^  Three  Acts.    Seven  males,  four  femalea. 

Costumes,  modern ;  so>""'^—  —    <"»— i.-..     t^i..„. 
two  bonis  aad  a  hall 

TBE  fiAY  LORD  OUEX  ^°'^®**y  ^  ^^^^  •^'^**-  '^'^^'^  niaies,  ten 

"  females.    Costumes,  modern  ;  scenery, 

two  Interiors  and  an  exterior.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

BIS  HOUSE  IN  ORDER    comedy  in  Four  a.- Ls.   Xiuo  males,  four 

^^         femalbs.    (' 
three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

THE  HOBBY  HORSE    Comedy  in  Three  Acts.    Ten  males,  five 

Plays  two  hours  and  a  half. 

ipiC    Drama  in  Five  Acts.    So  veu  nmlea,  seven  feioale^s.    Costumes, 
modem ;  scenery,  three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 


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14       1   UVV  VI4    „^igg_    Costumes,  modorii ;  soeixMy,  four  it 


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^  males.    Costumes,  modern  j  scenery  complicated.    Plays  a 

full  evening 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

Walttt  ^.  Bafeet  S,  Company 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 


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COUSIN  KATE 


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Cousin  Kate 


A  COMEDY 

In  Three  Acts 


By  HUBERT  HENRY  DAHES 


All  rights  reserved  tinder  the  International  Copyright  Act. 
Performance  forbidden  and  right  of  representation  reserved. 
Application  for  the  right  to  produce  this  play  may  be  made 
to  Charles  Frohman,  Empire  Theatres  New  York. 


BOSTON 

WALTER  H.  BAKER  <Sr»  CO. 

LONDON 

WILLIAM  HEINEMANN 

MCMX 


COUSIN  KATE 


COPTBIGHT,    1910,    BY 

HUBERT    HENRY    DAVIBS 
AX\  rights  reaerved 


PLEASE    READ    CAREFULLY 

The  acting  rights  of  this  play  are  reserved  by  the  author. 
Performance  is  strictly  forbidden  unless  his  express  consent 
or  that  of  his  agent  has  first  been  obtained,  and  attention 
is  called  to  the  penalties  provided  by  law  for  any  Infringe- 
ment of  his  rights,  as  follows  :  — 

"  Sec.  4966  :  —  Any  person  publicly  performing  or  repre- 
senting any  dramatic  or  musical  composition  for  which 
copyright  has  been  obtained,  without  the  consent  of  the 
proprietor  of  said  dramatic  or  musical  composition,  or  his 
heirs  and  assigns,  shall  be  liable  for  damages  therefor,  such 
damages  In  all  cases  to  be  assessed  at  such  sum,  not  less 
than  one  hundred  dollars  for  the  first  and  fifty  dollars  for 
every  subsequent  performance,  as  to  the  court  shall  appear 
to  be  Just.  If  the  unlawful  performance  and  representation 
be  wilful  and  for  profit,  such  person  or  persons  shall  be 
guilty  of  a  misdemeanor,  and  upon  conviction  be  imprisoned 
for  a  period  not  exceeding  one  year."  —  U.  S.  Revised 
Statutes,  Title  60.  Chap.  S. 

The  right  to  perform  this  play  professionally  may  be  ob- 
tained by  addressing 

Charles  Frohhan,  Empire  Theatre,  New  Yore. 


5S!1 


^^/c3^^^7/a 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 

Heath  Desmond 

An  artist 

Rev.  James  Baktlett 

A  clergyman 

Bobby  Spekcer    . 

A  schoolboy 

Mus.  Spencer 

A  widow 

Amy  Spencer 

A  girl 

Jane 

A  servant 

and 

Cousin  Kate 

A  novelist 

Act     I.  .         .         At  Mrs. 

Spencer's 

Act    II.   .         .         The  empty  house 

Act  III.  .        .        At  Mrs. 

Spencer's 

The  action  takes  place  in  a  rural  district  of  England, 
at  the  present  day,  and  covers  a  period  of  about  five  hours. 


This  play  was  first  acted  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre, 
London,  on  Thursday  evening,  June  18th,  1903,  under  the 
management  of  Messrs.  Frederick  Harrison  and  Cyril 
Maude.     Below  is  a  copy  of  the  original  programme. 


Cousin  Rate 


A   NEW  COMEDY  IN  THREE   ACTS 

By  HUBERT   HENRY  DAVIES 

Perfornudfor  the  first  time  on  Thursday  evening, June  iBth,  i<)03. 


Heath  Desmond 
Rev.  James  Bartlett 
Bobby  Spencer 
Mrs.  Spencer 
Amy  Spencer     . 
Jane   . 
Kate  Cttrtis 


Mr.  Cyril  Maude 
Mr.  Rudge  Harding 
Master  Cyril  Smith 
Miss  Carlotta  Addison 
Miss  Beatrice  Ferrar 
Miss  Pamela  Gaythorne 
Miss  Ellis  Jeffreys 


The  action  takes  place  in  a  rural  district  of  Eng- 
land, and  coiners  a  period  of  about  five  hours. 


Acts  I.  and  III.     Drawing-room  at  Mrs.  Spencer's, 
Walter  Hann. 

Act   II.     The  sitting-room  at  «  Owlscot," 
Walter  Hann. 


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IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcli  ive.org/details/cousinkatecomedyOOdaviiala 


COUSIN    KATE 


THE  FIEST  ACT 

SCEN"E:  —  A  drawing-room  at  Mrs.  Spencer's. 
There  is  a  door  on  the  left-hand  side  and  a 
French  window  opposite  the  audience.  It  is  a 
cheerful  room,  used  as  a  general  sitting-room, 
with  simple  and  rather  old-fashioned  furni- 
ture. The  window  is  wide  open  and  shows  a 
pretty  country  garden  in  mid-summer.  There 
is  a  large  oval  table  near  the  centre,  with  hooks 
and  a  bowl  of  flowers  upon  it.  A  writing-table 
against  the  wall  near  the  door.  A  sofa,  sev- 
eral chairs  and  other  suitable  furniture  to 
complete  scene;  pictures  and  brackets  on  the 
wall.  A  picture  over  the  writing-table  repre- 
sents a  girl  feeding  pigeons. 

Mrs.  Spencer  is  seated  on  the  sofa,  sewing,  with  a 
capacious  worTc-bashet  by  her  side.  She  is  a 
middle-aged  widow,  a  gentlewoman  who  has 
always  lived  in  the  country  and  is  unsophisti- 
cated in  the  ways  of  the  world.  By  nature  she 
is  soft  and  affectionate,  tactless,  and  with  no 
force  of  character.  She  is  well,  but  not 
stylishly,  dressed. 

1 


2  COUSIN  KATE 

Amy  Spencer,  her  daughter,  is  seated  in  an  ami' 
chair  doing  nothing.  She  is  a  pretty  girl  of 
twenty,  well,  but  plainly,  dressed.  She  is  a 
serious  girl,  practical  and  without  imaginor 
Hon  or  humour;  very  honestly  trying  to  do 
her  duty  —  always  very  sincere  and  unaf- 
fected. 

Bobby  Spencer,  Amy's  brother,  a  boy  of  fourteen, 
is  seated  at  the  table  reading;  his  book  and 
elbows  are  on  the  table  and  his  head  clasped 
between  his  hands.  He  wears  a  flannel  shirt 
and  trousers,  a  dark  coat  and  canvas  shoes. 

From  the  serious  demeanour  of  the  Spencers 
when  the  curtain  rises,  it  is  evident  that 
something  is  weighing  heavily  upon  them. 
Amy  listlessly  turns  her  engagement  ring 
round  on  her  finger,  then  takes  it  off  and  eX' 
amines  it,  without  noticing  the  others.  When 
she  takes  it  off,  Mrs.  Spencer  watches  her 
furtively  over  her  work,  and  Bobby  steals  a 
glance  at  her.  Amy  replaces  the  ring.  Mrs. 
Spencer  and  Bobby  continue  sewing  and 
reading.  Amy  rises,  goes  to  the  window  and 
looks  off.  As  soon  as  Amy's  back  is  turned, 
Mrs.  Spencer  drops  her  work  and  watches 
her.  Bobby  also  looks  up  from  his  book  and 
watches  her;  then  Mrs.  Spencer  and  Bobby 
look  at  each  other.  Amy  turns  from  the  win- 
dow and  glances  at  the  others,  who  continue 
sewing  and  reading  and  pretend  not  to  be 
watching  her.    Amy  goes  out  and  closes  the 


COUSIN   KATE  3 

door.  As  soon  as  she  has  gone,  Mrs.  Spencer 
lays  her  work  down  ieside  her,  takes  out  her 
handkerchief  and  dries  her  eyes.  Bobby 
pushes  his  book  away  and  leans  back  in  his 
chair. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Poor  Amy ! 

Bobby. 
I'd  like  to  kill  him. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

He  may  have  had  some  good  reason  for  going 
away.     I  try  to  believe  so. 

Bobby. 

But  wouldn't  he  have  told  her  if  he  had,  instead 
of  leaving  her  like  this  without  a  word?  He's 
had  two  days  to  tell  her  in.  We  may  as  well 
make  up  our  minds  that  he's  gone  for  good. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[With  a  fresh  hurst  of  tears.']  Oh,  it's  terrible 
to  see  her  going  about  the  house  so  pale  and  quiet. 
If  she'd  only  talk  about  it,  but  she  won't.  She 
feels  the  humiliation  so.     [Wipes  her  eyes.'] 

Bobby. 
I  can't  help  thinking  I  ought  to  do  something ! 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Sorrowfully.]     What  could  you  do  ? 


4  COUSIN   KATE 

Bobby. 

If  I  knew  where  he  was,  I  might  go  for  him. 
Of  course,  he  could  lick  me,  but  I  might  land 
him  a  punch  or  two  on  his  beastly  jaw  first  —  and 
that  'ud  be  somethin'!  [Oloomily.']  It's  sittin' 
still  and  doin'  nothin'  that's  so  awful.  I  ought 
to  be  doin'  somethin'  —  because  —  well  —  I'm  the 
only  man  in  our  family. 

[There   is  a  Tcnock   on   the  door;    Mrs. 

Spencer  quickly  resumes  her  work,  try' 

ing  to  look  composed. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Come  in. 

[Jane,   a  country  servant   maid,  with  a 
perpetual  grin,  enters  with  a  parcel. 

Jane. 

Is  Miss  Amy  'ere? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
She  just  went  out.    What  have  you  there,  Jane  ? 

Jane. 

I  think  it's  another  wedding  present,  mum. 
Miss  'Omer  left  it. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Miss  Homer? 


COUSIN   KATE  5 

Jane. 
The  'ousemaid  at  Darbisher's,  nmm. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Oh,  from  Mrs.  Darbisher.  Please  put  it  on  the 
table. 

Jane. 

Yes,  mum.     [Lays  the  parcel  on  the  table.'] 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[As  Jane  goes  to  the  door.]  Don't  disturb 
Miss  Amy.     I'll  tell  her. 

Jane. 
Yes,  mum. 

[Jane  goes  out;  Mrs.  Spencer  goes  to 
the  table,  takes  up  the  parcel  and  looks 
at  it. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I'd  better  put  it  where  Amy  won't  see  it.  [Puts 
the  parcel  in  a  drawer  of  the  writing-table.]  I 
don't  think  Jane  knows  yet  that  there's  anything 
the  matter. 

Bobby. 

[Watching  his  mother.]  We  might  as  well  tell 
everybody.  He  won't  come  back,  and  it  might 
stop  the  presents  comin'.  [Nearly  crying.]  I 
can't  bear  it  when  the  presents  come.  [Turns 
quickly  to  window   to  hide  his  emotion.    Mrs. 


6  COUSIN  KATE 

Spencer  goes  hack  to  the  sofa  and  resumes  her 
sewing.] 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

It'll  be  better  when  Cousin  Kate  comes. 

Bobby. 
What  can  she  do  ? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  don't  know,  but  I  always  have  a  feeling  that 
things  will  be  better  when  Cousin  Kate  comes. 

Bobby. 

[Ooing  nearer  to  the  window  as  if  he  sees 
someone  approaching.']  Here's  Mr.  Bartlett. 
[Turns  to  his  mother.]  Shall  I  go  and  say  you 
won't  see  him? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Dropping  her  work.]  No,  I  asked  him  to 
call. 

Bobby. 

Are  you  goin'  to  tell  him? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Yes,  I  must.  You  see,  he's  going  on  with  the 
arrangements  at  the  church.  [There  is  a  knock 
at  the  door.]     Come  in. 

[Jane  enters. 
Jane. 
Mr.  Bartlett,  mum. 


COUSIN   KATE  7 

[Mrs.  Spencee  places  her  work  and  basket 
on  the  table.  The  Kev.  James  Baet- 
LETT^  a  serious  young  Anglican  clergy- 
man, enters.  He  is  about  thirty-five, 
rather  stiff,  and  pompous,  and  always 
very  much  in  earnest.  His  oratorical 
and  platitudinous  style  of  talking  has 
become  natural  through  habit.  He  quite 
sincerely  does  what  he  thinks  is  right 
but  he  can't  see  through  himself.  He 
always  employs  a  genial  manner  in  greet- 
ing people  but  geniality  is  not  natural 
to  him. 

Baetlett. 

Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Spencer.  [He  shakes 
hands  with  her.'\ 

[Jane  goes  out.  Bobby  shakes  hands 
with  Mr.  Baetlett. 

Bobby. 
[Lugubriously.']     How  d'you  do,  Mr.  Bartlett? 

Baetlett. 

[In  his  genial  manner  —  patting  Bobby  on  the 
back.]  Well,  Eobert,  how  are  the  holiday  tasks 
going? 

Bobby. 
Not  very  well. 

Baetlett. 

Too  much  cricket,  eh? 


8  COUSIN  KATE 

Bobby. 

[With  a  sigh.}  No  —  it  isn't  that.  [Turns 
away.] 

[Mr.  Bartlett  seats  himself  in  an  arm- 
chair and  addresses  Mrs.  Spencer. 

Bartlett. 

Wef've  just  been  practicing  the  wedding  hymn. 
The  boys  really  give  a  capital  rendering  of  "  The 
Voice  that  breathed  o'er  Eden." 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Embarrassed,  trying  to  control  her  emotion; 
Bobby  watching  her.]  Mr.  Bartlett,  we  are  in 
great  trouble.  [She  pauses,  Bartlett  instantly 
drops  the  genial  manner  and  leans  forward  in  the 
attitude  of  professional  sympathiser.]  Amy  will 
not  be  married  the  day  after  to-morrow.  [Begin- 
ning  to  weep.]  Mr.  Desmond  has  gone  away. 
[She  pauses  to  wipe  her  eyes  before  proceeding.] 

Bartlett. 
[Not  quite  understanding.]     Gone  away? 

Bobby. 
[Bitterly.]     He's  jilted  her  —  the  cad. 

Bartlett. 

[Sincerely,  but  professionally  to  Mrs.  Spen- 
cer.] May  I  say  that  I  sympathise  with  you 
most  deeply  in  this  visitation? 


COUSIN   KATE  9 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Recovering  herself. 1  Thank  you.  I  was  sure 
you  would.  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  it  all. 
Mr.  Desmond  was  here  as  usual  on  Sunday  eve- 
ning, and  he  said  nothing  about  going  away,  but 
when  Bobby  went  round  to  his  lodgings  on  Mon- 
day morning,  they  told  him  he  had  packed  his 
things  and  gone. 

Bartlett. 

He  sent  you  no  explanation  ? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
No  —  and  he  left  no  address. 

Bartlett. 

Have  you  taken  any  steps  to  find  out  where 
he  went? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

No.  I  thought  it  would  hardly  become  us  to 
go  after  him  if  he  wishes  to  leave  us.  Perhaps 
I  was  wrong.  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I'm 
afraid  we  are  rather  a  helpless  little  family;  but 
we've  never  had  to  face  anything  like  this  before. 
{Dries  her  eyes  again.^ 

Bartlett. 

Let  us  hope  that  though  your  way  now  seems 
so  dark  it  may  ultimately  prove  to  be  all  for  the 
best. 


10  COUSIN    KATE 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Yesf,  but  two  days  before  the  wedding  —  [Weeps 
again.'\ 

Bobby. 

[Sorrowfully.']  She's  got  her  dress  and  veil 
and  everythin'  and  the  ctike  came  this  morning. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Their  home  is  almost  ready  for  them.  He 
wouldn't  go  away  now  if  he  meant  to  marry  Amy. 

Babtlett. 
It*8  very  lamentable  —  very  lamentable. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Cheering  up  a  hit.']  It  will  be  better  when 
Cousin  Kate  comes. 

Bobby. 

Mr.  Bartlett  doesn't  know  who  Cousin  Kate  is, 
mother. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

My  cousin,  Miss  Curtis.  She  is  coming  on  a 
visit.  She  was  coming  to  the  wedding.  She 
doesn't  know  yet  —  of  course.  We  are  all  very 
fond  of  her,  and  she's  seen  us  through  many  a 
trouble.  When  my  dear  husband  died,  and  Amy 
and  I  were  prostrate  with  grief,  she  came  and 
did  everything  for  us.  I  doa't  know  what  we 
should  do  without  Cousin  Kate. 


COUSIN   KATE  11 

Bobby. 
She  lives  in  London.     She  writes  novels. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  think  you  told  me  that  you  had  read  some  of 
her  books. 

Bartlett. 

[Stiffening  with  disapprobation.']     I  have. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Simply.]  She  isn't  at  all  like  her  books. 
She's  very  nice. 

Bobby. 

Yes,  she's  jolly.  She  used  to  play  cricket  with 
me  when  I  was  a  kid. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

She's  been  like  an  elder  sister  to  these  children 
—  and  to  me  too.  [Ohservvng  Bartlett's  stiff 
attitude.]  I'm  afraid  you  don't  approve  of  her 
books,  by  your  face. 

Bartlett. 

I  found  her  cynical  attitude  towards  love  and 
marriage  very  distressing. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  don't  pretend  to  be  a  critic,  and  I  couldn't 
make  head  or  tail  of  Kate's  last  book,  but  no  one 


12  COUSIN   KATE 

could  help  loving  her.  She  is  so  unselfish  and 
affectionate  —  wayward  and  impulsive,  too.  When 
she  was  younger  I  was  afraid  she  might  do  some- 
thing imprudent.  I  could  so  easily  imagine  her 
eloping  or  going  upon  the  stage.  But  she'll  be 
a  great  help  now.  [Amy  enters.^  She's  devoted 
to  Amy.  [Sees  Amy.]  Oh,  Amy  dear,  here's 
Mr.  Bartlett. 

[Amy  goes  to  Mb.  Bartlett  who  rises  and 
shakes  hands  with  her.  Mrs.  Spencer 
and  Bobby  both  watch  her  anxiously. 
She  is  very  composed. 

Amy. 

Bobby,   I   think   it's  time  you  went  to  meet 
Cousin  Kate. 

Bobby. 

[Looking  sorrowfully  at  Amy.]     Yes,  I'll  go. 

[Bobby  goes  out. 
Amy. 

[To  Mrs.  Spencer.]     Aren't  you  going  to  the 
Mothers'  Meeting? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Rising. 1      Perhaps     I'd     better.     I     suppose 
they'd  wonder  if  I  didn't  come. 

Amy. 

I  think  there  is  no  need  for  us  to  neglect  our 
duties. 


COUSIN   KATE  '  13 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

No,  dear,  I'll  just  go  and  put  in  an  appearance, 
any  way,  and  if  Cousin  Kate  comes  before  I'm 
back  you  can  look  after  her  —  can't  you  ?  You'll 
excuse  me,  won't  you,  Mr.  Bartlett? 

[Mr,  Bartlett  opens  the  door  for  Mrs. 
Spencer.  She  looks  at  Amy,  hesitates, 
then  goes  to  her  and  kisses  her  emotion- 
ally. Amy  receives  the  kiss  kindly  but 
undemonstratively.  Mrs.  Spencer  goes 
out,  wiping  her  eyes.  Mr.  Bartlett 
closes  the  door  after  her. 

Bartlett. 

[Impressively.']  Oh,  if  only  there  were  more 
Christian  women  like  you.  Miss  Spencer. 

Amy. 
[Turns  to  Mm  a  little  surprised.]     Like  me? 

Bartlett. 

More  who  place  their  duties  before  their  pleas- 
ures or  —  what  is  even  rarer,  before  their  griefs. 

Amy. 

I  want  to  do  my  duty,  but  sometimes  it  is  very 
hard  even  to  know  what  it  is. 

Bartlett. 

Be  patient,  and  be  assured  that  everything  will 
be  made  plain. 


14  COUSIN   KATE 

Amy. 

I  am  patient,  but  everything  is  not  made  plain. 
I  know  it  is  rebellious  of  me  to  speak  so,  but  I 
think  you  understand  a  Christian's  difficulties 
better  than  most  people  do.  Our  own  vicar  is 
very  good,  of  course  —  but  he  is  so  old,  I  suppose 
he  can't  understand  a  young  person's  temptations 
very  well,  and  since  you  came  here  to  take  his 
place,  you  have  so  often  helped  me.  You  say 
things  that  seem  to  be  meant  specially  for  me. 

Bartlett. 

I  am  very  grateful  if  I  have  been  the  instrument 
chosen  to  bring  the  truth  home  to  you^ 

Amy. 

You  preached  two  Sundays  ago  against  the 
danger  of  yoking  ourselves  with  unbelievers.  Did 
you  mean  wicked  people  —  like  atheists  —  or  just 
flighty  people  —  like  —  like  — 

Bartlett. 

The  Irish.  [Amy  drops  her  eyes.']  I  am  afraid 
there  is  not  a  very  wide  difference  between  the 
two  states.  Flightiness  is  the  forerunner  of 
crime. 

Amy. 

Oh,  but  with  a  person  to  whom  crime  is  out  of 
the  question  —  a  person  who  doesn't  trouble  much 
about  going  to  church,  but  who  is  always  good 
and  kind. 


COUSIN   KATE  15 

Baetlett. 

That  is  not  a  very  easy  question  to  decide  off- 
hand. 

Amy. 

It  is  a  question  I  have  to  decide.  I  know  I 
am  weak  and  inexperienced,  but  I  do  want  to  do 
what  is  right,  and  I  want  to  do  right  by  other 
people,  too.    It  isn't  always  easy  to  do  both. 

Baetlett. 

Do  you  find  it  impossible  to  fulfil  your  duties 
towards  others,  and  at  the  same  time  to  follow 
the  dictates  of  your  own  conscience? 

Amy. 
[Simply.']     I  don't  know  till  I  try.     I  suppose 
I  ought  to  be  wise  enough  to  settle  my  own  diffi- 
culties, but  you  see  I'm  not.     [Sits  on  the  sofa.} 

Baetlett. 

[Speaking  more  earnestly  than  he  has  yet  done.} 
If  you  were  free  from  all  obligations,  would  you 
be  able  to  perform  your  duties  better  singly,  or 
yoked  with  one  whose  aims  were  the  same  as  your 
own,  whose  loving  interest  would  support  not 
hinder  you,  in  your  life's  work?  [Sits  beside 
her.} 

Amy. 

[Looking  on  the  ground.}     I  think  I  could  do 


16  COUSIN   KATE 

more  good  with  someone  to  guide  me.     [Looks 
up  at  him.}     I  suppose  that's  very  weak? 

Baetlett. 

No,  no.  [He  looks  into  her  eyes.  She  turns 
them  away  embarrassed.}  It  is  a  divine  ordinance 
that  each  should  have  a  loving  helpmeet  to  assist 
and  cheer  him  on  this  earthly  pilgrimage.  [He 
bends  towards  her,  speaking  like  a  lover.}  Miss 
Spencer  —  Amy  — 

[There  is  a  knock  on  the  door.    Amy  rises 
abruptly.    Jane  bursts  in. 

Jane. 
[Excitedly.}     She's  coming. 

Amy. 
[To  Me.  Baetlett.]     Ifs  Cousin  Kate. 

Jane. 

She's  not  here  yet.  Miss,  but  I  see  the  cab  go 
round  the  corner,  and  it's  her  box  —  the  same 
she  had  last  time. 

[Jane  goes  out. 
Amy. 

[Constrained  as  she  turns  to  Mb.  Baetlett.] 
Will  you  stay  and  meet  her? 

Baetlett. 

I  think  not.  May  I  come  and  renew  this  con- 
versation another  time? 


COUSIN   KATE  17 

Amy. 

We  shall  be  very  pleased  to  see  you  if  you  care 
to  come  [pames,  then  says  hurriedly^  to  supper 
this  evening. 

Baetlett. 
Thank  you.    I  wiU  come. 

[Mr.  Bartlett  gaes  out. 

[Enter  Cousin  Kate.  She  is  a  charming,  humour- 
ous, high-spirited,  affectionate  woman  of 
twenty-nine.  She  knows  the  world,  and  her 
experience  has  only  matured,  not  embittered 
her.  She  is  devoted  to  the  Spencers;  their 
simplicity  appeals  to  her  heart,  and  she  feels 
as  if  she  were  their  guardian  —  a  position 
they  very  willingly  grant  her.  She  is  charm- 
ingly dressed.  She  carries  a  small  hag  in 
one  hand,  am,  umbrella  and  sunshade  closed 
in  the  other,  and  a  light  dust-coat  over  one 
arm.  As  she  is  passing  the  window  she  sees 
Amy,  stops,  and  enters  by  the  window. 

Kate. 

Here  you  are.  [Swoops  upon  Amy,  embraces 
her  with  her  arms  full,  and  hisses  her  on  each 
cheek.]  Vm  so  glad  to  see  you.  [She  turns  to 
deposit  her  things  on  the  table;  Amy  helps  her.] 
Oh,  my  dear,  I've  had  such  an  adventure  in  the 
train. 

Amy. 

[Apprehensively.]     What  —  an  accident? 


18  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 
No  —  a  man. 

Amy. 
Did  he  speak  to  you  ? 

Kate. 

[Demurely  as  she  draws  ojf  her  gloves."]  Yes 
—  he  spoke  to  me. 

Amy. 

How  dreadful!  It's  getting  worse  and  worse 
on  this  line.  Florrie  Cutler  told  me  the  most 
awful  experience  she  had  the  other  day.  I  think 
the  man  put  his  feet  up  and  whistled,  —  and 
when  she  looked  at  him  he  winked.  [Looks  at 
Kate,  who  is  wrestling  with  her  gloves.^  I  can 
see  you  are  all  in  a  flutter.  [Kate  smiles  at  her.] 
Did  he  go  far? 

Kate. 
All  the  way. 

[Amy  opens  her  mouth  and  eyes  in  sur- 
prise. 

Kate. 

Yes.     He  got  out  at  this  station. 

"^  Amy. 

[Relieved.]  Oh,  I  meant  did  he  do  more  than 
just  speak? 

Kate. 

He    laughed    and —       [Amy    looks    horrified. 


COUSIN   KATE  19 

Kate  smiles  at  her  as  she  throws  her  gloves  on 
the  table.]     My  dear,  he  was  perfectly  ehanning. 

Amy. 
[Shocked.']     Oh,  Cousin  Kate! 

Kate. 
[Demv/rely.']     How's  your  mother? 

Amy. 

She's  quite  well.  But  how  did  you  get  into 
conversation  with  him? 

Kate. 

The  usual  way.  He  asked  me  if  I'd  like  the 
window  up  or  down.  I  said  "up"  .  .  .  or 
was  it  "  down  "  ?  Anyhow  I  said  I'd  have  it  the 
way  it  wasn't.  You  know  he  wasn't  at  all  like 
a  man  in  a  train.  Generally  I  accept  the  window 
up  or  down  and  refuse  the  newspaper,  but  he 
offered  his  so  charmingly  —  a  little  shyly,  but  not 
at  all  clumsily.     He  was  so  nice. 

Amy. 

[Thoughtfully.']  I  suppose  there  is  no  harm 
in  accepting  a  newspaper  from  a  fellow  traveller. 

Kate. 
Of  course  not. 


20  COUSIN   KATE 

Amy. 

If  one  isn't  a  very  young  woman. 

Kate. 

[Turns  suddenly  on  Amy,  protesting  good- 
humour  edly.}     Oh,  Amy,  you  demon! 

Amy. 

[Afraid  she  has  hurt  Kate's  feelings.^  Oh, 
1  don't  mean  — 

Kate. 

You  mean  me.  [Smiling.']  But  I  don't  mind, 
because  a  very  young  woman  wouldn't  know  the 
sort  of  man  she  has  to  snub  from  the  sort  it's 
safe  to  be  nice  to.  [Folds  her  hands  in  mock 
resignation.']     Old  age  has  its  compensations. 

Amy. 

Of  course  you  merely  returned  his  paper  with 
a  word  of  thanks. 

Kate. 

Er  —  er —  How's  Bobby?  [She  wanders  about 
looking  at  things.] 

Amy. 
He  went  to  the  station  to  meet  you. 

Kate. 

Did  he  ?  I  didn't  see  him.  But  I  was  in  such 
a  state. 


COUSIN   KATE  21 

Amy. 
[Innocently.]     Were  you  ?    Why  ? 

Kate. 

Oh,  with  my  luggage,  of  course.  I  leapt  into 
a  cab  and  flew  up  here  without  saying  good-bye. 

Amy. 
Good-bye?    Who  came  with  you? 

Kate, 

[Darting  an  impatient  looh  at  Amy.]  Oh, 
Amy!  [Stops  in  front  of  the  picture.]  What  a 
pretty  picture !  It's  new  since  I  was  here.  [Goes 
closer  to  it  as  if  to  exam^ine  it  carefully.]  A  girl 
feeding  pigeons  —  very  nice. 

Amy. 

[Puzzling.]  Oh,  I  see  —  without  saying  good- 
bye to  the  man  who  lent  you  the  newspaper.  Who 
was  he? 

Kate. 

[Still  regarding  the  picture.]  I  don't  know. 
I  never  saw  him  before,  [Slowly  —  almost  with 
a  sigh.]  I  shall  never  see  him  again.  [Pauses, 
gazing  in  front  of  her,  hut  not  at  the  picture. 
BlinTcs  her  eyes  and  turns  round  quicJcly,  speaking 
more  to  herself  than  Amy.]  Of  course  I  shall 
never  see  him  again.    What  am  I  thinking  of  ? 


22  COUSIN   KATE 

Al£Y. 

But  you  say  he  got  out  here. 

Kate. 

If  I  happened  to  meet  him  —  I  daresay  I  might 
—  bow  to  him.  I  suppose  I  could  do  that  without 
behaving  like  a  servant? 

Amy. 

I  wonder  if  I  know  him.  I  know  everyone 
about  here  by  sight.    What  was  he  like  ? 

Kate. 
Sunshine. 

Amy. 
Tall  or  short? 

Kate. 

Just  right  —  not  too  anything. 

Amy. 

What  was  it  that  attracted  you  so  greatly  to 
him? 

Kate. 

I  don^t  know;   he  wasn't  much  to  look  at.       * 

Amy. 
Ugly? 

Kate. 

No!  or  I  shouldn't  have  asked  him  to  share 
lunch. 


COUSIN   KATE  23 

Amy. 
lAmazed.]     Share  lunch? 

Kate. 
[Embarrassed;  laughs  and  comes  quichly  to- 
wards  Amy.]  Oh,  I  forgot.  I  didn't  tell  you 
that.  You  see.  Amy,  it's  a  long  journey  from 
town  —  so  I  had  a  lunch-basket  —  and  he  hadn't 
one,  and  I  was  sure  he  must  be  getting  hungry 

—  and  they  give  you  so  much  in  those  lunch- 
baskets —  I  never  can  eat  it  all,  can  you?     And 

—  Well,  Amy,  you  wouldn't  put  a  whole  chicken 
leg  under  the  seat  if  you  saw  a  starving  man 
opposite,  would  you? 

Amy. 

So  you  —  ? 

Kate. 
So  we  nursed  the  lunch-basket  between  us. 

Amy. 
[Horrified.l     Nursed  it! 

Kate. 
It  ^  was  the  easiest  way.     Would  you  have  us 
put  it  on  the  seat  and  eat  sideways  like  this? 
[She  illustrates  how  awJcward  it  would  he.]     Very 
awkward. 

Amy. 
[Thoughtfully.]     I  wonder  who  he  was? 


24  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 

ISeriously.}  You  see,  I  never  thought  he'd 
get  out  here  —  at  such  a  little  station. 

Amy. 
What  sort  of  eyes  had  he? 

Kate. 
[With  enthusiasm. '\     Oh,  nice  eyes. 

Amy. 
But  what  colour? 

Kate. 

[Speaks  slowly,  not  looking  at  Amy.]  First  I 
thought  they  were  grey  —  then  when  he  came 
nearer  I  saw  they  were  deep  blue,  and  when  he 
leaned  over —  [Amy  looks  shocked]  over  the 
lunch-basket  and  talked,  they  looked  almost  black 
—  wonderful  eyes.  [Slowly  and  softly  as  if  her 
thoughts  had  gone  far.]     Wonderful  eyes. 

Amy. 

[Watching  her.']  Cousin  Kate,  I  believe  you're 
in  love  with  him. 

Kate. 

[Brought  hack  suddenly;  rises,  really  a  little 
annoyed.)  Now,  how  ridiculous.  Just  because 
he  happened  to  be  civil  in  a  train  —  a  man  I'vo 
never  seen  before.  I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  such 
silly  things.  Amy. 


COUSIN   KATE  25 

Amy. 

{Trying  to  conciliate  her.]     I  beg  your  pardon 
—  I  didn't  mean  to  — 

Kate. 
I'm  sorry  I  told  you  now;  I  didn't  mean  to  tell 
anyone.  Not  that  there  was  the  least  reason  to 
keep  it  secret.  But  I  did  think  that  being  in  love 
yourself,  you'd  be  able  to  understand  how  one 
may  be  a  little  excited  by  meeting  a  man  —  and 
want  to  tell  everyone  about  it  —  without  being  at 
all  in  love. 

Amy. 

But  I  always  thought  that  being  excited  and 
wanting  to  talk  about  him  —  was  a  sign  — 

Kate. 
Now,  Amy,  you'll  make  me  quite  angry  if  you 
keep  on  like  that.     I  did  think  you'd  have  more 
sense  when  you  are  just  going  to  be  married. 

Amy. 
But  I'm  not  going  to  be  married. 

Kate. 

[Electrified.']     What?    You  don't  mean  to  tell 
me  it's  broken  off? 

Amy. 
[Quietly.]     He  has  left  me. 


26  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 

[In  a  rush  of  pity  and  affection  sits  beside  Amy 
and  puts  her  arms  about  her."]  Oh,  you  poor, 
dear  child.  And  I've  just  been  so  horrid  and 
cross  to  you.  I'm  sure  you  are  well  rid  of  him. 
But  we'll  get  him  back  for  you,  someway  or  other. 
He  shan't  go  away  and  leave  you.  How  dare  he 
—  the  monster  ? 

Amy. 

[Distressed.']  No  —  don't  say  that.  It  was 
my  fault. 

Kate. 
Your  fault? 

Amy. 

Yes.  The  others  don't  know  that,  and  they 
are  all  saying  such  hard  things  about  him,  and 
I  feel  so  guilty, 

[Kate  watches  her  a  moment  before  she 
speaks. 

Kate. 

Well,  whatever  you  did,  he'd  no  right  to  run 
away  just  before  the  wedding  and  upset  every- 
thing  so.     I  don't  think  he's  a  nice  man. 

Airr. 

Oh,  but  it  was  my  fault. 

Kate. 

Not  at  all.  You  couldn't  have  quarrelled  unless 
he'd  quarrelled,  too.     I've  no  patience  with  the 


COUSIN   KATE  27 

way  men  go  on  now.  They  think  they'  can  do 
anything  they  like  because  there  are  so  many  of 
us.  I'll  teach  one  of  them  a  lesson  one  of  these 
days. 

Amy. 

But  Heath  wasn't  like  that. 

Kate. 

I  don't  know  what  he  was  like.     I'm  thankful 
to  say  I  never  saw  him. 

Amy. 

I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.     You  know  Heath  is 
an  artist. 

Kate. 
That's  no  excuse. 

Amy. 

And  he  says  artists  can't  take  life  seriously  all 
the  time. 

Kate. 
[Pleased    and    impressed    with    this    remarJc.] 
He's    quite    right.     [Annoyed    to    find    herself 
pleased  with  anything  he  said.]     I  suppose  he 
read  that  in  a  book. 

Amy. 

It  has  often  troubled  me  that  he  couldn't  take 
hfe  as  seriously  as  I  do.  The  other  evening  I 
spoke  to  him  about  it.  I  began  by  telling  him 
the  way  I  should  like  us  to  keep  Sunday  after 
we  are  married.     He  paints  on  Sundays. 


28  COUSIN   KATE 

ELA.TE. 

lUnimpressed.}     Does  he? 

Amy. 

Yes,  and  I  don't  think  it's  right.  And  he  is 
often  flippant  in  a  way  I  don't  like.  I  spoke 
about  that,  too. 

Kate. 

[Looking  away  from  Amy,  speaks  half  to  her- 
self.'\  I'm  beginning  to  feel  rather  sorry  for 
poor  Heath. 

Amy. 

And  when  he  laughed  at  me  I  lost  my  temper. 
It  is  hard  to  be  made  fun  of  when  you  are  trying 
to  do  what's  right  —  isn't  it? 

Kate. 

Yes,  I  think  it  was  nasty  of  him  to  make  fun 
of  you.     What  did  he  say? 

Amy. 

When  I  said  I  didn't  like  him  to  paint  on 
Sunday  —  he  said  he'd  only  paint  religious  sub- 
jects. 

Kate. 

[Amvsed.']     He's  nice,  isn't  he? 

Amy. 

[Oravely.']  But  he  said  it  to  make  fun.  He 
wouldn't  see  that  I  was  in  earnest. 


COUSIN   UATE  29 

Kate. 
But  he  really  is  in  love  with  you,  isn't  he? 

Amy. 
[Smiles.']     Oh,  yes,  I'm  sure  he's  very  much 
in  love  with  me.     But  don't  you  think  I  was 
right  to  speak  out? 

Kate. 
Well,  you  know.  Amy,  it  seems  to  me  that  if 
a  man  was  nice  and  witty,  and  in  love  with  me 
—  I'd  let  him  paint  devils  on  Sunday  if  he  wanted 
to.  But  still,  I  don't  think  that  was  any  reason 
for  his  going  away  without  a  word.  You  must 
have  said  more  than  that. 

Amy. 

Well  —  Yes.  He  seemed  to  think  he  had 
only  to  give  me  a  kiss  and  we  could  go  on  laughing 
and  talking  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  But  it 
was  the  last  Sunday  before  our  marriage  and  I 
couldn't  help  realising  how  serious  it  all  was.  I 
think  so  many  people  become  selfish  when  they 
marry.  They  live  only  for  each  other  and  forget 
their  higher  duties.  And  I  said  I  wanted  ours 
to  be  an  ideal  marriage,  and  to  make  it  that  we 
ought  to  eliminate  passion  as  much  as  possibla 

Kate. 

[Very  gravely.]  Oh!  What  did  he  say  to 
that? 


30  COUSIN   KATE 

Amy. 

He  said  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  talking 
about.  Then  I  grew  very  angry,  and  I  said 
rather  more  than  I  intended.  I  told  him  I 
couldn't  marry  him  imless  he  changed. 

EIate. 
[As  before.']     Oh!! 

Amy. 

And  he  just  walked  out  of  the  room.  I  haven't 
seen  him  since.  I  thought  he'd  come  back.  But 
he  didn't. 

[Mrs.  Spencee  enters  in  her  bonnet;  goes 
to  Kate  and  greets  her  affectionately. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Oh,  Kate!  I'm  so  glad  you've  come.  Forgive 
me  for  not  being  here  to  welcome  you,  but  I  had 
to  go  to  the  Mothers'  Meeting. 

Kate. 
You  good  little  thing. 

Amy. 

I'll  go  and  tell  them  to  take  your  trunk  up- 
stairs. [Takes  the  bag,  dustcloak  and  umbrella 
from  the  table.] 

Kate. 

Oh,   thank  you.     [Produces  a  key  from   her 


COUSIN   KATE  31 

pocket]  Here's  the  key.  [As  she  gives  it  to 
Amy  she  speaks  aside  to  her  with  a  glance  to 
Mhs.^  Spencer,  who  has  seated  herself  on  the  sofa 
and  is  drawing  off  her  gloves.]  Don't  tell  anyone 
about  the  man  in  the  train. 

[Amy  goes  out. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Has  Amy  told  you? 

Kate. 
Yes.     I'm  so  sorry. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Oh,   Kate,   it's   breaking  my   heart.     I   never 
felt  so  much  in  need  of  you  as  I  do  now.     You 
will  help  us,  won't  you,  dear  ? 

Kate. 

If  I  can  —  of  course  —  but  —  tell  me —     Do 
people  know? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Only  Mr.  Bartlett. 

Kate. 
Who's  he? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

A  young  clergyman  who  is  talcing  our  vicar's 
duty  while  he  is  abroad. 


32  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 
And  what  does  he  say? 

Mrs.  Spenceb. 
He  says  it  may  be  all  for  the  best 

Kate. 

[IrHtated.'l  Oh!  Now,  isn't  that  just  like 
a  curate? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

He  isn't  exactly  a  curate,  dear.  He's  a  locum 
ten  ens. 

Kate. 

Well,  then  —  isn't  that  just  the  sort  of  thing 
a  locum  tenens  would  say?  Do  any  real  people 
know? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Only  Bobby  —  and  he  only  says  he'd  like  to 
kill  Heath. 

Kate. 
[Affectionately.']     Oh,  how  sweet  of  Bobby. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Despondently.']  But  I  suppose  we  can't  do 
anything  till  we  know  where  Heath  is. 

Kate. 
Do  you  want  him  back? 


COUSIN   KATE  33 

Mrs.  Spencee. 
Oh,  I  don't  know,  I  never  had  a  word  to  say 
against  him  before  —  but  what  can  I  think  of 
him  now? 

K!ate. 

Everything  I  have  heard  of  him  is  so  charming. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[With  enthusiasm.']  Oh,  he  was  so  charm- 
ing—  and  so  amusing;  he  used  to  get  me 
quite  hysterical  every  Sunday  night  at  supper. 
[Laughs.']  You  must  get  him  to  tell  you  that 
story  about  Miss  Murphy  and  the  Banshee. 
[They  both  laugh.]  And  he  was  so  kind  to  us 
all,  so  attentive  to  me  and  so  nice  with  Bobby 
—  and  his  devotion  to  Amy  was  beautiful. 

Kate. 
It  was  a  good  match  for  Amy,  wasn't  it  ? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Yes —  You  never  thought  me  —  a  scheming 
woman,  did  you,  Kate? 

Kate. 
[Gravely.]     N"o,  never. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

No,  but  still  Heath  happens  to  have  a  very 
good   income,   and   he's   very   clever.     They   say 


34  COUSIN   KATE 

he's  sure  to  be  made  an  R.  A.  some  day.  And 
he  took  such  a  pretty  old  house  near  here  —  you 
know  I  wrote  and  told  you  about  it. 

Kate. 
Oh,  yes,  of  course. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

And  how  beautifully  he  was  furnishing  it  — 
It's  called  Owlscot.     [Pronounce  like  "  Ascot.  "] 

Ejlte. 
Owlscot  ? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Yes,  because  of  the  owls.     Owls'  cot,  you  know. 

Kate. 

[Delighted.l  Oh,  are  there  owls  in  the  gar- 
den? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

No,  there  aren't  any,  but  Heath  says  it  looks 
as  if  there  ought  to  be,  so  he  called  it  Owls'  Cot. 
He  said  perhaps  the  owls  would  come  if  they  saw 
it  on  the  gate-posts. 

Kate. 
[Laughing.']     I'm  sure  I  should  like  Heath. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Amy  thought   people  would   think  the   name 


COUSIN   KATE  35 

silly,  so  he  said  she  could  call  it  Owlscot,  which 
isn't  a  bad  sounding  name  for  a  house,  do  vou 
think?  ^ 

Kate. 

No,  I  think  it's  delightful. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Heath's  full  of  funny  little  fancies  like  that, 
but  he's  kind  and  thoughtful,  too.  When  I  said 
I  couldn't  afford  to  send  Bobby  to  a  public  school 
he  asked  if  he  might  help  with  the  expenses  — 
and  he  did  it  so  nicely. 

Kate, 
[With    decision.l     Amy   mustn't    lose   such   a 
nice  man  as  that.     We'll  get  him  back  for  her 
somehow. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Cheering  up  considerably. 1    Oh,  Kate,  I  knew 
it  would  be  better  when  you  came. 

Kate. 
Ah,  but  we  haven't  got  him  back  yet.     [She 
reflects    before    she    speaks.]     When    did    Amy 
become  so  good? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Simply.']     She's  always  been  good. 

Kate. 
Yes  —  but  not  as  bad  as  this. 


36  COUSIN   KATE 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  fancy  Mr.  Bartlett  has  made  her  think  more 
deeply.    He's  a  very  earnest  man. 

Kjlte. 

[Slaps  her  hands  together.']  Then  that  locum 
tenens  is  at  the  bottom  of  it  all. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Looks  up,  surprised.]     All  what? 

Kate. 

Has  he  been  preaching  sermons  about  the 
selfishness  of  married  couples,  and  the  elimina- 
tion of  passion? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Still  more  surprised.]  He  gave  us  a  very 
powerful  sermon  on  that  subject  a  few  Sundays 
ago. 

Kate. 

[Nods  her  head.]  That's  where  she  got  it 
from,  I  knew  she  didn't  think  of  that  herself. 
Sarah,  that  locum  tenens  is  a  bad  man.  Don't 
you  let  him  come  near  the  place  again. 

[Jane  enters. 
Jane. 

Mr.  Bartlett,  mum. 

[Mrs.  Spencer  and  Kate  are  loth  start- 
led.    Mr.    Bartlett    enters,  carrying  his 


COUSIN  KATE  37 

hat.    Kate  is  perfectly  composed.  Mrs. 
Spencer  is  exceedingly  embarrassed. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Confused.']     Oh,  Mr.  Bartlett,  this  is  Cousin 
Kate.     [Indicating   Kate.]     Miss   Cousin  Kate, 
I  ought  to  say,  I  mean  Miss  — 

Kate. 
[Prompting  her.]     Curtis,  dear,  Curtis. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Yes.  I  couldn't  remember  your  name  for  an 
instant.  This  is  Mr.  —  [Confused.]  Now  IVe 
forgotten  yours. 

Kate. 

[Comes  to  the  rescue  by  cordially  extending  her 
hand  to  Mr.  Bartlett,  as  she  says  sweetly.]  We 
were  just  speaking  of  you  as  you  came  in,  Mr. 
Bartlett. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Trying  to  mahe  things  smooth.]     Yes,   and 
Mr.  Bartlett  has  read  some  of  your  books,  Kate. 
[Mr.  Bartlett  holes  embarrassed. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Seeing  his  embarrassment,  becomes  embar- 
rassed  herself.]     Oh! 


88  COUSIN  KATE 

Kate. 

[Sweetly  to  Mr.  Bartlett.]  You  didn't  like 
them,  did  you?  A  bishop  once  told  me  they 
ought  to  be  publicly  burnt. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Oh,  I  don't  think  they  are  as  bad  as  that. 

Kate. 

[Qttaintly  to  Mrs.  Spencer.]  Thank  you, 
Sarah. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

But  then,  I  don't  know  what  they  are  about 
half  the  time. 

[Kate  laughs  and  moves  away. 

Bartlett. 

[Places  his  hat  on  the  table,  'pausing  to  give 
importance  to  his  speech.'\  I  have  called  to  tell 
you  that  Mr.  Heath  Desmond  has  come  home. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Joyfully.^  Oh,  that  is  good  news.  Oh,  Kate, 
he's  come  back.  [To  Mr.  Bartlett.]  Have 
you  seen  him? 

Bartlett. 

Yes,  I  have  spoken  to  him. 

[He  pauses  and  looks  deliberately  at  Kate, 
who  supposes  she  isn't  wanted. 


COUSIN  KATE  39 

Kate. 

[To  Mrs.  Spencer  as  she  goes  towards  the 
door.']     I'll  go  and  take  my  things  off. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Don't  go,  dear.  [Kate  stops;  Mrs.  Spencer 
turns  to  Bartlett.]  You  can  say  anything 
before  her.  Now,  tell  us  all  about  it.  I8itting 
on  the  sofa-l     Sit  down,  Kate. 

[Kate  sits  down,  watching  Mr.  Bartlett 
narrowly  as  he  speaks.  He  sits  rather 
reluctantly,  addressing  himself  exclu- 
sively  to  Mrs.  Spencer. 

Bartlett. 

I  saw  him  enter  his  rooms,  so  I  called,  and 
taking  the  prerogative  of  the  clergyman  of  the 
parish,  I  taxed  him  with  his  imaccountable  disap- 
pearance. 

[A  shade  of  irritation  crosses  Kate's  face, 
Mr.  Bartlett  pauses  and  looks  at  her. 
She  returns  his  look,  smiles,  betraying 
no  feeling  of  any  sort. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
And  what  did  he  say? 

Bartlett. 

He  said  he  would  rather  not  discuss  his  affairs 
with  me. 


40  COUSIN  KAT3 

[Kate  looks  pleased.  Mb.  Bahtlett 
pauses  as  before  and  looks  at  Kate. 
She  returns  his  look  as  before. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

And  so  you  — 

Bartlett. 

I  had  a  duty  to  perform,  and  so  I  was  not 
abashed  by  his  rebuff.  [Kate  titters.  Mr. 
Bartlett  glares  at  her.  She  clears  her  throat 
and  looks  away.']  I  sketched  briefly  the  distress 
he  had  caused  in  this  household.  Then  I  asked 
him  if  he  intended  to  return. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Yes,  yes? 

Bartlett. 

He  says  he  considers  himself  free,  unless  your 
daughter  sends  for  him  at  once. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
{Looks  from  one  to  the  other.]     Why? 

Bartlett. 

I  promised  to  convey  a  message  from  her  or 
from  you. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Well,  Amy  must  write  to  him.  I'll  go  and  tell 
her.     [Rises  and  goes  towards  the  door.] 


COUSIN   KATE  41 

[Kate  rises,  prepared  to  follow  Mrs. 
Spencer. 

Bartlett. 

[Rising.]  Excuse  me.  [Mrs.  Spencer  stops. 
He  speaks  importantly. '\  Have  you  decided  what 
message  to  send  ? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

He  must  have  a  note  asking  him  to  come,  if 
that's  what  he's  waiting  for. 

Kate. 
Of  course. 

Bartlett. 

Is  there  not  a  wiser  alternative? 

[Bartlett  looks  at  Kate,  hoping  she  will 
go.  Kate  deliberately  sits  down,  show- 
ing she  intends  to  stay. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Comes  towards  Mr.  Bartlett.]  I  don't 
think  I  quite  grasp  your  meaning. 

Bartlett. 

Well,  then,  is  Mr.  Desmond  the  man  to  trust 
your  daughter  to?  I  do  not  wish  to  say  any- 
thing against  his  character,  but  he  has  always 
seemed  to  me  a  —  a  —  frivolous  man.  And  is 
not  his  present  conduct  a  sign  of  inconstancy? 


42  COUSIN   KATE 

Your  daughter  is  on  the  eve  of  taking  perhaps 
the  most  important  step  in  her  life.  Is  it  not 
well  to  pause  while  there  is  yet  time? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Mtich  perturbed;  appeals  to  Kate.]  What 
do  you  think,  Kate? 

Kate. 

\^Coldly.^  Does  it  matter  what  anybody  thinks 
except  Amy? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

But  of  course  it  was  very  funny  of  Heath  to 
run  away  like  that,  and  he  might  do  it  again. 

Kate. 

Oh,  Sarah! 

Bartlett. 

After  I  have  delivered  her  message,  it  may  be 
too  late  for  her  to  retreat  from  her  promise  — 
with  honour. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Loo^s  at  Kate,  who  makes  no  movement,  then 
turns  to  Bartlett.]  Perhaps  you  had  better 
see  Amy  yourself.  [Kate  tries  to  attract  the 
attention  of  Mrs.  Spencer  in  order  to  stop  her 
saying  this.  Mrs.  Spencer  doesn't  notice  Kate's 
movement.]  You  may  be  able  to  put  it  —  more 
—  forcefully  than  I  can. 


COUSIN   KATE  43 

Bartlett. 

[^Readily.']  I  will  most  willingly  interview 
her,  if  you  wish,  but  before  doing  so  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  you  which  —  it  is  impossible  to 
say  —  before  —  a  third  person.  [Stares  at  Kate. 
Kate  rises,  smiles  at  Mrs.  Spencer,  and  goes 
out  hy  the  window  without  looking  round.  Mr. 
Babtlett  approaches  Mrs.  Spencer.] 

Bartlett. 

If  Mr.  Desmond  deserts  your  daughter  now, 
she  will  naturally  feel  humiliated. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
{Sorrowfully.']     Oh,  yes  —  can't  you  see? 

Bartlett. 

And  as  —  I  wish  —  to  save  her  all  the  pain 
I  can,  and  as  I  find  her  essential  to  my  own  hap- 
piness, I  desire  to  tell  her  that  if  she  releases 
herself  from  this  engagement  —  she  need  not  be 
humiliated  —  for  I  would  then  come  forward  and 
offer  her  —  myself. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

That  wouldn't  be  quite  the  same  thing  —  would 
it? 

Bartlett. 

I  think  that  she  should  know  that  she  has  this 
alternative  before  she  communicates  with  Mr. 
Desmond. 


44  COUSIN  KATE 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Dubiously.]  I  wish  you'd  let  me  see  what 
Kate  says. 

[He  looks  momentarily  uneasy,  then  re- 
covers himself. 

Bartlett. 
She  is  a  stranger  to  me. 

Mrs.  Spenceb. 
Yes,  yes  —  I  see. 

Bartlett. 

As  your  daughter  is  so  young  and  her  present 
situation  so  delicate  —  I  thought  it  was  my  duty 
to  ask  your  permission  before  speaking  to  her. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Troubled.']  I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to 
let  you  see  her  or  not. 

Bartlett. 
It  cannot  do  her  any  harm  to  hear  me. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

^Impressed  by  this  remark.']  No.  She  isn't 
obliged  to  accept  you,  is  she? 

Bartlett. 
Certainly  not. 


COUSIN    KATE  46 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  snppose  you'd  better  speak  to  her.     If  you'll 
wait  here  I'll  send  her  to  you. 

[Mrs.  Spencer  goes  out.  Kate  enters 
with  her  hat  in  her  hand.  Both  she 
and  Bartlett  feel  constrained  when 
they  find  themselves  alone.  They  looTc 
at  each  other  in  turns  before  speaking. 
Kate  places  her  hat  on  the  table. 

Kate. 

[Pleasantly.']     What  very  pleasant  weather  we 
are  having. 

Bartlett. 
I  beg  your  pardon. 

Kate. 

[Clears  her  throat  and  speaks  more  distinctly.] 
What  very  pleasant  weather  we  are  having. 

Bartlett. 
Oh,  yes  —  but  I  think  there'll  be  rain  soon. 

Kate. 

[Pleasantly.]       Possibly      storms.         [Smiles 
sweetly  at  him.] 

[She  sits  down,  not  loohing  at  him.  He 
looks  at  her  uneasily  before  he  speaks. 


46  COUSIN   KATE 

Baetlett. 

[Takes  his  hat.]     Will  you  kindly  tell  Mis8 
Spencer  I  will  await  her  in  the  garden? 

Kate. 
[Pleasantly.]     Yes  — I'll  tell  her. 

Baetlett. 
Thank  you. 

[He  goes  out  hy  the  window.  As  soon  as 
he  is  onit  of  sight,  Kate  jumps  up,  goes 
towards  the  window  and  glances  in  the 
direction  he  has  gone.  Mrs.  Spencer 
enters.  Kate  comes  quickly  towards 
her  as  she  speaks. 

Kate. 

He's  gone  into  the  garden.    Are  you  going  to 
let  him  see  her? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
I've  just  told  Amy. 

Kate. 
Is  he  going  to  ask  her  to  marry  him? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Kate  —  you've  been  listening? 

Katb. 
Uo,  I  hareo't. 


COUSIN   KATE  47 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
How  else  could  you  know?    It's  miraculous. 

Kate. 
Don't  you  think  it's  very  dangerous  to  let  her 
see  him  now?  Heath  has  hurt  her  pride;  she's 
smarting.  Can't  you  remember  how  it  felt  at 
her  age?  I'm  so  afraid  she'll  sacrifice  the  future 
to  save  the  present. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[PeHurhed.']     But  I've  told  Mr.  Bartlett  I'd 
send  Amy  to  him. 

Kate. 
Send  her  to  me  first. 

[Amy  enters. 
Mrs.  Spencer. 
But  how  can  I  explain  it  to  him  ? 

Kate. 

[Olances  at  Amy,  then  says  rapidly  to  Mrs. 

Spencer.]     Don't  explain  it.     Go  and  show  him 

the  nasturtiums  or  the  lobelias  or  whatever's  out. 

[Pttshes  Mrs.  Spencer  out  at  the  window. 

Mrs.  Spencer  disappears. 

Amy. 
Mother  said  Mr.  Bartlett  wanted  to  see  me. 


48  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 

Yes.  He's  waiting  for  you  in  the  garden.  He 
brought  a  message  for  you. 

Amy. 
From  Heath  —  mother  told  me. 

Kate. 
What  reply  are  you  going  to  send? 

Amy. 
I  don't  know  yet. 

Kate. 

Hadn't  you  better  make  up  your  mind  before 
you  go  and  see  Mr.  Bartlett? 

Amy. 

Mother  said  he  had  something  very  important 
to  say  to  me.  I  think  I  had  better  hear  what  it 
is  first,     [Going  towards  the  window.'] 

Kate. 
Your  reply  to  Heath  is  more  important.    [Amy 
hesitates.l     You  want  to  do  what's  right,  don't 
you? 

Amy. 

[Hesitatingly.']  Yes.  [With  conviction.]  Yes 
—  I  do.    Do  you  think  I  ought  to  forgive  Heath  ? 


COUSIN   KATE  49 

Kate. 
[Quietly.]     I  thought  he  had  to  forgive  you? 

Amy. 

[After  a  pause,  during  which  Kate  watches 
her  closely.']  What  message  do  you  think  I  ought 
to  send  him? 

Kate.  > 

I  think  I  should  write  and  say  you  are  sorry 
for  what  you  said  to  him,  and  that  you  see  now 
that  it  was  a  little  piece  of  presumption  for  a 
young  girl  to  talk  that  way  to  a  grown-up  man. 
[Amy  turns  and  stares  at  Kate.]  And  ask  him 
to  forgive  you  because  you  are  so  young  and 
inexperienced  —  and  he  will,  because  you  are  so 
pretty. 

Amy. 

But  that  is  putting  myself  entirely  in  the 
wrong  ? 

Kate. 
Weren't  you? 

Amy. 

N'o.  I  blame  myself  very  much  for  losing  my 
temper  with  him.  But  I  can't  take  back  what 
I  said  before.  It  isn't  a  question  of  what  I  wish 
—  but  of  right  and  wrong. 

Kate. 
And  are  you  sure  that  a  young  girl  who  has 
never  been  anjrwhere  much  or  seen  anything  par- 


60  COUSIN   KATE 

ticular  is  the  proper  judge  of  what  is  right  and 
wrong  for  a  man  ten  years  older  than  herself? 
And  is  all  his  goodness  to  go  for  nothing?  Amy, 
dear,  you'd  be  a  fool  to  let  that  man  go  —  and 
just  think  —  he  chose  you  —  who  bring  him 
nothing  but  your  little  self  —  out  of  the  whole 
world. 

Amy. 

Am  I  to  thank  him  for  loving  me? 

Kate. 

Yes.  You  would  if  you  realised  how  many 
girls  there  are  who  would  make  good  wives  and 
how  few  men  who  would  make  good  husbands. 

Amy. 

But  I  can't  give  up  my  principles.  I'm  pre- 
pared to  suffer  for  them. 

Kate. 

Well,  don't  be  like  most  people  who  suffer  for 
their  principles,  and  make  everybody  else  suffer 
for  them  too.  If  we  want  to  marry  we  must  be 
prepared  to  make  compromises  — 

Amy. 

It  may  be  that  I  shall  do  my  duty  better  singly. 

Kate. 
I'm  sure  you'll  get  into  Heaven  sooner  by  doing 


COUSIN   KATE  51 

your  duty  to  your  neighbour,  than  by  being  very 
good  all  by  yourself.  I  mustn't  urge  you.  I 
only  want  to  save  you  from  making  the  same 
mistake  I  made.  I  wouldn't  make  compromises, 
I  demanded  the  perfect  man.  Now  I  know  there 
isn't  one.  So  I've  had  disappointment  after  dis- 
appointment, till  I  have  to  face  the  worst  one 
of  all  —  for  our  lives  are  empty  if  we  aren't  loved. 
A  woman's  life  is  so  meaningless  by  itself. 
And  I  have  a  great  deal  in  my  life.  I  have  a 
profession,  I'm  successful,  I'm  invited  and  wel- 
comed everywhere  —  but  I'm  lonely,  Amy, — 
desperately  lonely.  I'd  give  it  all  up  for  a  real 
home  with  a  husband  and  children.  And  look 
how  much  worse  it  is  for  women  with  no  object 
in  life  —  no  work  and  no  children.  I  only  want 
you  to  be  happy,  and  not  disappointed,  like  me. 

Amy. 

[Kisses  Kate  softly  on  the  cheeh.']  I  think 
I'd  better  write  to  him  —  and  ask  him  to  come 
back.     Oh,   Cousin  Kate,  you  make  me  feel  so 


small. 


[Kate  puts  her  arms  about  Amy,  who 
falls  on  her  shoulder,  weeping  a  little. 


Kate. 

[Pets  her,  a  little  overcome  with  emotion.'] 
I'm  not  very  wise  myself,  dear,  but  I've  knocked 
about  so  much  I  want  you  to  be  taken  care  of. 
Oh,  it  must  be  so  beautiful  to  be  taken  care  of. 


52  COUSIN   KATE 

[Amy  goes  to  the  writing-desk  and  sits, 
drying  her  eyes. 

Amy. 

I  think  I'll  just  write  and  tell  Heath  I  don't 
know  much,  [Takes  a  sheet  of  paper  and  begins 
to  write  a  note.] 

Kate. 

Amy  —  Amy!  Perhaps  you  had  better  go  and 
see  Mr.  Bartlett  before  you  write  that  letter. 

Amy. 

No,  I'd  rather  not.  I'm  sure  I'm  doing  right 
to  ask  Heath  to  forgive  me.  [Amy  writes  the 
letter.  When  she  has  -finished  it  she  turns  to 
Kate.]  Will  this  do  ?  [She  holds  out  the  letter. 
Kate  comes  towards  her,  takes  it  and  reads  it 
as  Amy  addresses  the  envelope.^ 

Kate. 

That's  very  sweet.  [Gives  it  hack  to  Amy, 
who  puts  it  in  envelope.']  Now  lick  it  up.  [Amy 
fastens  it,  then  rises.]  Mr.  Bartlett  said  he 
would  take  your  answer  to  Heath.  Shall  we  go 
and  give  it  to  him? 

Amy. 

[Shyly  giving  letter  to  Kate,]  You  give  it 
to  him.     I  don't  think  I'll  see  him  now. 

[Amy  goes  out.    Kate  marches  towards 


COUSIN   KATE  63 

the  window,  waving  the  letter  triuni' 
phantly  till  she  meets  Mrs.  Spencer 
coming  in  from  the  garden. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Where's  Amy?    Isn't  she  coming? 

[Enter    Mr.    Bartlett,    following    Mrs. 
Spencer. 

Kate. 

No.  [Showing  the  letter.']  This  is  her  reply 
to  Mr.  Desmond.  [Turns  to  Bartlett.]  Which 
you  so  kindly  offered  to  convey.  [Gives  the 
letter  to  M^r.  Bartlett.] 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
But  isn't  she  going  to  see  Mr.  Bartlett? 

Kate. 
She  asked  me  to  deliver  her  letter  for  her. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Oh!  [She  turns  to  Bartlett  with  an  embar- 
rassed smile.] 

Bartlett. 

I  will  take  this  to  Mr.  Desmond. 

Kate. 
Thank  you.     [Bartlett  goes  out.  Kate  turns 
to  Mrs.   Spencer.]     She's  asked  him  to  come 
back. 


64  COUSIN   KATE 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Sinks  comfortcibly  on  a  chair.']  Oh,  I'm  so 
relieved.  Mr.  Bartlett  has  been  upsetting  me  so. 
He  got  me  so  that  I  didn't  know  whether  1  wanted 
Heath  back  or  not. 

Kate. 

[Apprehensively.]  I  suppose  he'll  take  the 
letter  at  once.  You  see  we've  wasted  a  lot  of 
time  already,  and  Heath  considers  himself  free 
unless  he  hears  at  once. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Mr.  Bartlett  knows  that. 

Kate. 

[Reas^ared.]  But  he  doesn't  know  what  is  in 
the  letter.     He'll  be  in  a  hurry  to  find  out. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Smiling  comfortably.']  So  we  shall  have  the 
wedding  on  Friday  after  all. 

Kate. 

[Brightly.]  And  Amy  will  be  the  bride,  and 
you'll  give  her  away,  and  Bobby  will  be  best  man. 
[Half  humorously,  half  sadly.]  And  I  shall  just 
be  one  of  the  guests  and  throw  rice. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Laughing.]     Oh,    Kate,    you    are    so    funny. 
[Seriously.]     What  did  you  say  to  Amy? 


COUSIN  KATE         ,  55 

Kate. 
I  told  her  the  best  thing  a  woman  could  have 
was  a  home  with  a  husband  and  a  baby. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Mildly  surprised.']     Why,  Kate,  that  isn't  at 
all  the  way  you  write  in  those  books  of  yours. 

Kate. 
[Half -laughing,  half  in  earnest.']  I  shan't 
write  any  more  of  those  silly  books.  I  thought 
I  was  being  so  clever,  but  I  was  showing  my 
ignorance  all  the  time.  My  next  book  shall  be 
all  about  love;  my  hero  and  heroine  shall  be 
married  and  go  and  live  in  a  dingy  little  house 
—  but  it  will  be  a  palace  to  them. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Looks  penetratingly  at  Kate.]     Kate,  I  be- 
lieve you  have  something  to  tell  me.     [Goes  to- 
wards her.] 

Kate. 
[Moving  away  in  agitation.]     No,  I  haven't. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
I've  been  so  absorbed  in  Amy's  trouble  I 
haven't  had  time  to  think  of  you.  But  now 
you've  come  and  made  it  all  right  for  us.  [Ooes 
towards  her  again,  speaking  emotionally.]  Oh, 
Cousin  Kate,  what  should  we  do  without  you? 


56  COUSIN  KATE 

[Takes  Kate's  hand.  Kate  hangs  her  head. 
Mrs.  Spencer  speaks  coaxingly.]  Now,  do  tell 
me  —  are  you  in  love? 

Kate. 

Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  think  I  must  be.  Yes, 
I  am.  I  know  I  am.  [Breaks  away  from  Mrs. 
Spencer.] 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Do  tell  me. 

Kate. 

No,  no,  I  can't.  Besides  —  there's  nothing  to 
tell. 

[Amy  enters. 
Amy. 

Mother,  don't  you  think  someone  should  go 
over  to  Owlscot?  The  drawing-room  hasn't  been 
aired  for  two  days,  and  the  piano  is  there. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

How  thoughtful  you  are.  Amy.  Whom  shall 
we  send? 

Kate. 

ru  go. 

Amy. 

[8urprised.'\     You  ? 

Kate. 
Yes,  I  need  a  walk  and  some  fresh  air. 


COUSIN   KATE  57 

Amy. 
I'll  go  with  you. 

Kate. 
No.     You  must  stay  in  case  Heath  comes  — 

Mrs.  Spencee. 
Then  Til  go. 

Kate. 

N"o.  [Gets  her  hat.]  You  have  to  hurry  on 
with  Amy's  trousseau.  [They  look  at  her;  she 
becomes  more  agitated,  then  goes  to  Mrs. 
Spencer.]  Can't  you  see  I  want  to  go  alone? 
I  shall  have  hysterics  if  Fm  opposed.  [Puts  on 
her  hat  and  gloves,  and  takes  her  sunshade, 
through  the  following  scene.  To  Amy.]  Tell 
me  the  way,  please. 

Amy. 
You  keep  along  the  high  road. 

Kate. 
Yes. 

Amy. 

Till  you  come  to  a  pond  covered  with  green 
slime. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

It's  shorter  across  the  fields. 

Amy. 
But  she'll  lose  her  way. 


68  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 

What  do  I  do  when  I  come  to  the  pond  covered 
with  green  slime  ? 

Amy. 

Take  the  second  turning  to  the  left 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Isn't  it  the  third  turning? 

Amy. 

No,  the  second. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Murmuring  to  herself.^  Oh,  yes.  The  third 
is  a  private  road. 

Kate. 
Second  to  the  left. 

Amy. 

Theji  you  walk  along  till  you  come  to  our 
house.  It's  a  white  cottage  with  a  gable  and  a 
lot  of  fir-trees  in  the  garden;  you  can't  miss  it. 
The  name  is  on  the  gate-post :   "  Owlscot." 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Owl's  cot,  you  know. 

Kate. 
I'll  find  it.     [Goes  towards  the  window.'] 


COUSIN   KATE  59 

Mes.  Spencer. 
[Crossing  to  the  writing -desh.']     Wait  a  min- 
ute.    You'll  want  the  key.     {Opens  a  drawer  and 
takes  out  a  large  front-door  Icey.'] 

Amy. 
Someone  else  will  have  to  go  to  light  the  fire. 

Kate. 
[Taking  the  key.']     I'll  do  that. 

Amy. 

Oh,    will    you?    Only    in    the    drawing-room 
because  of  the  piano. 

Kate. 
Yes,  yes,  I'll  attend  to  everything. 

[As  she  goes  out  of  the  window  Mrs. 
Spencer  and  Amy  loth  follow  her, 
speaking  together. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

You'd  better  take  an  umbrella.     It's  going  to 
rain.     It  looks  very  cloudy. 

Amy. 
Don't  forget  to  fasten  the  windows,  and  the 
ones  upstairs  as  well.     [Cousin  Kate  disappears 
in  the  garden.] 


60  COUSIN   KATE 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Turning  to  Amy.]  What  a  jewel  Cousin 
Kate  is.  1  knew  things  would  be  better  when 
she  came. 

Amy. 

Yes,  I  was  so  undecided  before,  but  I  feel 
content  now.     I  know  I've  done  right. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Embracing  Amy.]  My  good  little  girl! 
[Kisses  her  with  a  sigh  of  satisf action. '\  Now 
I  must  finish  marking  your  night-dresses. 

Amy. 

I'll  go  and  get  them  out. 

[Amy  goes  out.     Bobby  enters  whistling 
from  the  garden. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Hullo,  how  was  it  you  didn't  meet  Cousin 
Kate? 

Bobby. 

I  hid  in  the  waitin'  room  till  she'd  gone, 
because  she  got  out  of  the  same  carriage  with 
Heath. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

The  same  carriage  with  Heath!  How  funny! 
Did  you  speak  to  Heath? 


COUSIN   KATE  61 

Bobby. 
Not  then,  but  IVe  just  been  to  his  lodgin's. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Had  he  got  Amy's  letter? 

Bobby. 
No.     He   said   he'd   been   waitin'   and   waitin' 
for  it,  and  when  I  said  she'd  been  in  the  house 
all  day,  he  said  he  supposed  she  wasn't  goin'  to 
send  it. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Concerned.]     Well,  what's  Mr.  Bartlett  been 
doing  ? 

Bobby. 
When  I  was  comin'  away,  I  saw  Mr.  Bartlett 
go  and  leave  a  letter  at  Heath's  door  — about 
two  minutes  ago. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

He   took  long  enough  about   it.      ISmiling.] 
Heath  must  have  read  it  by  now. 

Bobby. 

But  when  Mr.  Bartlett  left  the  letter  Heath 
had  gone  away  again. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Dismayed.^     Gone  away!     Gone  away  again 
without  getting  Amy's  letter.     Oh,  dear! 


62  COUSIN   KATE 

Bobby. 
He  was  only  goin'  to  Owlscot. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Cheerfully.]  Oh,  Cousin  Kate  will  be  able 
to  explain  it  all  to  him.  She's  just  gone  to 
Owlscot. 


CUETAIN. 


THE    SECOND   ACT 

SCENE :  —  A  sitting-room  at  Owlscot.  It  is  an 
old  room  with  panelled  walls  and  beams 
across  the  ceiling.  Opposite  the  audience 
•  there  is  a  wide  casement  with  diamond  panes. 
There  is  a  door  in  the  wall  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  audience,  and  a  deep  fireplace 
opposite  the  door.  Beside  the  fireplace  is 
an  old  oak  settle,  facing  the  audience.  A 
piano  stands  against  the  wall  beside  the  door, 
nearer  the  audience  than  the  door;  nearer 
still  to  the  audience  beside  the  piano  stands 
a  chair.  Over  this  chair  there  is  a  stag's 
head  with  antlers.  There  is  a  round  table 
near  the  centre  of  the  stage  and  a  small 
table  between  the  fireplace  and  the  window, 
with  a  big  brass  candlestick  upon  it;  several 
oak  chairs,  etc.  Curtains  are  drawn  across 
the  casement  so  that  when  the  curtain  rises 
the  scene  is  very   dimly   lighted. 

The  stage  is  empty  at  first.  Then  a  door  is  heard 
to  shut  with  a  bang.  Footsteps  are  heard 
approaching  over  bare  wooden  floors. 

[Enter  Kate,  dressed  as  in  Act  I,  with 
the  front-door  key  in  her  hand.     She 
63 


64  COUSIN   KATE 

closes  the  door,  and  looks  around   the 

room. 

Kate. 
[In  a  sepulchral  tone  as  she  looks  about  her.\ 
All  alone  in  an  empty  house.  [She  S7iiffs  twice 
as  if  the  room  were  close.}  Oh!  how  stuffy. 
[Places  the  key,  with  her  gloves  and  parasol,  on 
the  tahle,  also  her  coat,  goes  to  the  window  and 
draws  the  curtains.  She  throws  the  casement 
open  wide,  letting  in  the  daylight.  As  she  turns 
from  the  window  she  sees  the  jnano.]  What  a 
grand  chance  to  try  my  voice !  [Ope7is  the 
piano,  plays  a  scale,  standing,  then  hums  a  tune 
in  a  light  voice.  Lets  out  her  voice  in  an  arpeg- 
gio scale.  Strikes  several  notes  on  the  piano  till 
she  finds  the  top  note  of  her  arpeggio.  Speaks 
disappointedly.}  Only  E.  [Plays  an  arpeggio 
scale  in  F  on  the  piano  agaiti,  takes  a  breath  and 
begins  to  sing  her  arpeggio  scale,  but  funks  the 
high  note.} 

[A   man's   voice  sings   the  scale   without. 

Kate    starts    violently    and    shuts    the 

piano  with  a  bang. 

[Heath  Debmond  hoists  himself  on  to  the 
window-sill  without  and  leans  into  the 
room.  He  is  a  man  about  thirty, 
though  it  is  difficult  to  guess  his  age 
from  his  appearance.  He  looks  young. 
His  temperament  is  far  more  Latin  than 
British.  He  is  gay  and  whimsical,  and 
his  mind  is  rapid  and  fanciful.    He  is 


COUSIN   KATE  65 

so  extraordinarily  frank  and  direct  in 
his  approach  that  it  is  impossible  to 
feel  a  stranger  in  his  presence.  He  is 
immensely  daring,  but  so  tactful  that 
he  is  never  impertinent.  He  wears 
flannels  and   a  straw   hat. 

Kate. 
[Concerned.]     What  are  you  doing  here? 

Heath. 
[Unconcerned.']     What  are  you  doing  here? 

Kate. 
Never  mind,  you  shouldn't  have  followed  me. 

Heath. 

[Pleasantly.]     If  you  will  choose  a  house  with 
nobody  in  it, — 

Kate. 
[Interrupting  him  indignantly.]     I  hope  you 
don't  think  I  came  here  to  give  you  an  opportu- 
nity. 

Heath. 

I  thought  I  wouldn't  miss  one.     [He  swings 
into  the  room.] 

Kate. 

[Betraying  a  little  alarm.]     You  mustn't  come 
in. 


66  COUSIN   KATE 

Heath. 

Why  not?  Is  this  your  house?  [Takes  his 
hat  off.] 

Kate. 

[Faltering.']     No  —  but  — 

Heath. 
Then  it's  neutral  ground  —  like  the  train. 

Kate. 

[Ooes  a  little  towards  him  and  speaks  per- 
suasively and  seriously.]  But  if  I  ask  you  to 
go  — 

Heath. 

[Looks  at  her,  smiling.]     You'd  be  as  rude  as 
if  you  asked  me  to  get  out  of  the  railway  car- 
riage. / 
Kate.                           / 

Then  I  must  go  myself. 

[8he  turns  to  the  table  and  is  about  to 
gather  up  her  sunshade  and  gloves,  etc. 
He  goes  towards  her  as  he  speaks. 

Heath. 

That's  as  rude  as  if  you  got  out  of  the  railway 
carriage  because  I  got  in. 

Kate. 
[Hesitates,  still  trying  to  be  haughty  and  indig- 


COUSIN   KATE  67 

nant.]     You  know  you've  no  right  to  come  in 
here. 

Heath. 

What  right  have  you?  [She  holds  the  hey  up 
to  shew  him.  He  bends  over  it,  examines  it 
curiously,  not  touching  it.^  How  on  earth  did 
you  get  it? 

Kate. 

I  am  here  at  the  request  of  the  owner  of  this 
house. 

Heath. 

,.   [To  himsdf.;    tv/iming  away.']     Oh  —  a  friend 
of  my  landlord. 

Kate. 
Do  you  still  dispute  my  right  to  be  here? 

Heath. 

[Turning  to  her.]  No,  I  only  wish  to  estab- 
lish my  own. 

Kate. 
You  can't. 

Heath. 

^  [With  franJc  good  humour  which  weakens  her 
dignity.]  I  could  if  you  asked  me  to  stay.  I'll 
be  very  good. 

Kate. 

[Hesituting.]  But  you  know  we  oughtn't  to 
stay  here  together. 

Heath. 
Why  not,  if  we  want  to? 


68  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 
I  didn't  say  I  wanted  to. 

Heath. 

To  say  you  oughtn't  to  is  about  the  same  as 
to  say  you'd  like  to.  If  you  really  don't  want 
to,  it's  so  much  easier  — 

Kate. 

[A  broad  smile  overspreads  her  face  and  she 
turns  to  him  good-humour  edly.'\  Oh,  stop! 
[She  means  "  Stop  your  rigmarole."'\ 

Heath. 
Didn't  we  have  fun  in  the  train? 

Kate. 

[Loolcs  at  Mm  'brightly.']  Yes.  {Remember- 
ing she  ought  to  be  strict  with  him.]  But  now 
you've  turned  our  fun  into  indiscretion. 

Heath. 

[Half-sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  table,  speaks 
with  enthusiasm,  not  noticing  her  seriousness.] 
How  we  flew  through  the  woods  and  over  the 
towns ! 

Kate. 

You've  made  me  feel  ashamed,  and  I  didn't 
want  to. 


COUSIN   KATE  69 

Heath. 
[Carrying  on  his  former  speech.]     Like  a  god 
and  a  goddess  dropped  from  two  planets.     You 
said  so  yourself   as   we   crossed  the  viaduct.     I 
was  Mars  —  you  Venus  — 

Kate. 

[Interrupting  him  indignantly. 1  I  never  said 
I  was  Venus. 

Heath. 

[Making  her  a  profound  how."]  Permit  me  to 
complete  the  simile. 

Kate. 

[Forgetting  herself  for  a  moment,  takes  his 
vein  of  mock  gallantry  and  drops  him  a  deep 
curtsey.']  Oh  —  h  —  h!  [Suddenly  remember- 
ing herself,  she  recovers  her  seriousness.]  I  think 
it's  time  you  flew  back  to  your  planet. 

[Both  the  next  speeches  are  spoken  at  the 
same  time.  Kate  is  seriously  trying 
to  impress  Heath;  he  begins  his 
speech  in  a  low  voice  after  she  has  begun 
hers,  and  speaks  faster,  and  louder  as 
he  goes  on  —  trying  to  talk  her  dtiwri. 

Kate. 

I  hoped  there  was  no  harm  in  strangers  con- 
fiding in  each  other  as  we  did.  I  thought  we 
had  risen  above  convention,  but  by  coming  here 
you  remind  me  that  we  sank  below  it.     I  see  now 


TO  COUSIN  KATE 

that  we  were  not  two  souls  impelled  to  mutual 
utterance,  but  just  two  people  who  gossiped  to- 
gether before  they  were  introduced.  We  ought 
never  to  have  met  again. 

Heath. 

And  I  was  wondering  how  you  would  look  with- 
out your  hat.  It  became  quite  an  obsession  with 
me.  It  is  still.  I  should  so  like  to  see  you 
without  your  hat.  It  wouldn't  be  much  trouble. 
There's  a  looking-glass  just  behind  you.  I  think 
you  might  take  your  hat  off.  [They  have  come 
towards  eadi  other  as  they  speak,  each  trying 
to  talk  the  other  down.  Kate,  seeing  how  absurd 
the  situaiion  is,  stops  and  laughs.  Heath  aays 
plaintively.^     Won't  you  please  take  your  hat  off? 

Kate. 

[Half -exasperated,  half-amused,  take*  her  hoi 
off.]     There ! 

Heath. 

[Surveying  her  with  admiration.]     Jolly! 

Kate. 

[Really  pleased,  hut  appearing  supercilious.] 
Thank  you.  [Turns  to  the  looking-glass,  pre- 
paring to  put  her  hat  on  again.] 

Heath. 

No,  don't.  [She  turns  to  him.]  Don't  put  it 
on  again. 


COUSIN   KATE  71 

KLA.TE. 

Why? 

Heath. 
I  don't  want  you  to  go  just  yet. 

Kate. 
[Laughs.]     Oh,  but  I  must. 

Heath. 

Well,  let  me  have  a  proper  look  at  the  hat  first. 
It's  quite  the  prettieet  one  I've  seen  this  season. 

Kate. 

[Pleased,  holding  out  the  hat  towards  him.'] 
I'm  glad  you  like  it;    I  trimmed  it  myself. 

[Heath  pretends  to  examine  the  hat,  and 
while  he  does  so  he  takes  it  from  her. 
She  yields  it  without  suspicion.  He 
marches  away  with  it. 

Kate. 
Well  —  you   really   have   more   assurance! 

[He  mounts  the  chair  beside  the  piano  and 
hangs  the  hat  on  the  antlers  above  it. 
She  watches  him  amazed  and  concerned. 

Kate. 
What  are  you  putting  it  there  for? 


72  COUSIN   KATE 

Heath. 

[Turns  to  her  on  the  chair,  smiling.']  To 
make  assurance  doubly  sure.  [Steps  off  the 
chair.] 

Kate. 

Do  you  think  I  can't  get  up  there  and  get  it? 

Heath. 

You  can  get  up  and  get  it. 

[Kate  moves  as  if  to  get  the  hat.  Heath 
sits  in  the  chair  beneath  it,  crosses  his 
legs  and  folds  his  arms.  Kate  visibly 
annoyed,  then  turns  to  him  and  says 
seriously  without  betraying  any  temper. 

Kate. 

Don't  you  think  you're  rather  taking  advan- 
tage of  me  by  coming  here? 

Heath. 

[Smiling.']  No,  no  —  I  don't.  For  as  I  so 
pithily  remarked  a  moment  ago,  this  is  neutral 
ground.  We  are  the  same  as  in  the  train  —  only 
—  we  aren't  getting  along  quite  so  fast.  [Kate 
sits  in  a  chair  at  some  distance,  turning  it  till 
it  has  its  back  to  him,  expressing  disapproval  in 
every  attitude.  There  is  a  short  silence;  Heath 
sighs  heavily.  She  does  not  smUe.]  Shall  we 
play  and  sing?  [This  amuses  her.  She  smiles 
unseen  by  him,  then  frowns.    Heath  rises  -and 


COUSIN   KATE  73 

comes  towards  her,  speaUng  naturally  and  sin- 
cerely.]    I  say,  you  know  —  I  don't  want  to  — 

Kate. 
[Rises  haugJitily  and  moves  away.]     I   don't 
think  it  is  very  polite  of  you  to  detain  me  here 
against  my  wish. 

[He  thinks  she  is  going  to  get  her  hat,  so 
he  rushes  lack  to  his  chair  and  sits. 

Heath. 
I  wish  you  wouldn't  pose  so. 

Kate. 
[Loftily.']     Pose ! 

Heath. 
Yes.     You  were  so  jolly  and  natural  in  the 
train.     Now  you  are  behaving  just  like  any  real 
lady  would. 

Kate. 
I  am  sorry  if  I  didn't  behave  like  one  then. 

y  Heath. 

^  Oh,  one  doesn't  think  about  whether  Andro- 
mache, or  Sarah  Siddons,  or  Saint  Cecilia  were 
real  ladies.  I  had  you  up  among  them.  [She 
smiles,  pleased  with  his  compliment.  He  comes 
towards  her  as  he  speaks.  Her  mamner  stiffens 
as  he  approaches  her.]  Whatever  you  do  is  sure 
to  be  all  right. 


74  COUSIN   KATE 

KLA.TE. 

I*m  not  aware  that  I  committed  any  unusual 
breach  in  speaking  to  a  fellow  traveller.  [She 
moves  off  with  an  air,  and  looks  off  from  the 
window.] 

[He  puts  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
watches  her  a  little  wistfully. 

Heath. 
You  do  disappoint  me! 

Kate. 

It  isn't  my  fault  if  you  formed  a  wrong  opinion 
of  me. 

Heath. 

[Judging  the  effect  of  his  remark  upon  her.l 
But  I  didn't  think  you  were  the  kind  of  woman 
who'd  talk  about  her  soul  and  love  to  any  man. 

Kate. 

[As  he  supposes,  turns  to  him  indignantly.'] 
I'm  not. 

Heath. 

[Meets  her  with  a  smile.]  Of  course  you're 
not.  I  know  you  from  her  as  well  as  I  know  you 
from  this  real  lady  with  all  her  spikes  out.  [Kate 
moves  away,  pretending  not  to  listen.]  Women 
are  such  frightful  cowards.  They  are  always 
clamouring  for  emancipation  and  then  —  when 
the  deliverer  comes  —  they  take  fright  and  run. 


COUSIN   KATE  76 

Kate. 
[MockinglyJi     How  true  —  how  true!!! 

Heath. 

You  know  we  agreed  before,  how  absurd  it  was 
to  have  all  these  conventions  keeping  men  and 
women  apart  —  but  I  never  saw  anyone  more 
conventional  than  you  are  now.  I  would  be  more 
consistent.     {Turns  away  from  her.^ 

Kate. 

[After  a  moment's  reflection.']  Suppose  I  do 
consent  to  stay  —  \he  turns  to  her  quickly]  — 
just  the  fraction  of  a  second  longer —  [She 
does  not  know  how  to  finish  her  sentence.] 

Heath. 
Well  —  we  could  talk. 

Kate. 
That  would  be  thrilling. 

Heath. 

[Laughs.]  Don't  be  nasty  about  it.  We  might 
have  tea,  too. 

Kate. 

[Surprised  into  a  laugh.]    Here? 

Heath. 

Yes.  We  have  to  light  a  fire  anyway,  to  air 
the  room. 


76  COUSIN    KATE 

Kate. 

[Surprised  into  seriotisness.]  How  do  you 
know  that? 

Heath. 

Well  —  haven't  we? 

Kate. 

Yes,  but  —  it  strikes  me  as  quite  weird  that 
you  should  know. 

Heath. 

[Going  nearer,  holes  at  her  and  speaks  insin- 
uatingly.] When  two  people  are  thoroughly 
sympathetic  they  often  divine  each  other's 
thoughts. 

Kate. 

[Embarrassed  under  his  gaze,  but  trying  to 
carry  it  off  lightly.']     Do  they? 

Heath. 

And  since  I  know  we  have  to  light  a  fire  to 
air  — 

Kate. 

[Interrupting  him.]  You  needn't  be  so  proud 
of  your  divinations.  That's  the  only  thought  of 
mine  you  ever  divined. 

Heath. 
[Prolonging  the  word."]    Ohll!! 


COUSIN   KATE  77 

Kate. 
[Faces  him,  defiantly. 1     Well? 

Heath. 
Shall  I  tell  you  some  of  the  others? 

Kate. 
[Quickly. 1     No,  thank  you! 

Heath. 

Do  let  me.  I  am  deeply  interested  in  occult- 
ism. 

Kate. 

[Raising  her  voice  and  speaking  quickly  to 
stop  him  speaking.']  Well,  I'm  not.  I  think  it's 
a  nasty,  creepy  subject,  and  if  you  think  you 
read  any  more  of. my  thoughts —  You  didn't  — 
[Breaks  off  suddenly  to  say.]  Dear  me,  how  I  am 
shouting. 

Heath. 

As  I  was  saying,  when  you  so  rudely  interrupted 
me,  we  have  to  light  a  fire  here,  anyway  —  on 
account  of  the  piano. 

Kate. 

[Turns  round  to  Mm  quickly.']  How  do  you 
know  about  the  piano?  Oh  !  [Goes  towards  him, 
and  asks  in  some  anxiety.]  Do  you  know  who  I 
am? 


78  COUSIN   KATE 

Heath. 
No.    Do  you  know  who  /  am? 

EL^TE. 

No. 

Heath. 

Would  you  like  to? 

Kate. 
No.     [Moves  away.'] 

Heath. 

It    would    rather    interrupt    our    romance    to 
exchange  cards,  wouldn't  it? 

Kate. 

Yes,  —  no,    that    is,  —  we    aren't    having    a 
romance. 

Heath. 

Not  yet,  but  when  we  get  cosy  over  our  tea- 
cups we  ought  to  feel  quite  romantic. 

Kate. 

[Turns  to  him.']     You  talk  as  if  this  were  our 
house. 

Heath. 

We  are  Silverlocks  and  this  is  the  house  the 
three  bears  lived  in. 


COUSIN   KATE  79 

Kate. 

[Ignoring  his  remark. 1  Besides  —  how  do  you 
know  there  is  any  tea  here? 

Heath. 

Silverlocks  didn^t  know  she  would  find  any 
soup. 

Kate. 

What  are  you  talking  about? 

Heath. 

[In  a  tone  of  serious  reproach.']  Do  you  mean 
to  say  you  don't  remember  the  story  of  Silverlocks 
and  the  three  bears? 

Kate. 
No. 

Heath. 

You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  [She 
shrugs  her  shoulders  and  turns  to  the  fireplace.'] 
Eemembering  nursery  stories  is  one  of  the  chief 
signs  of  election.  It  shows  you  are  still  a  child; 
that  you  haven't  forgotten  the  days  of  games  and 
dreams,  when  your  spirit  was  too  sportive  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  world  of  facts,  so  made  its  own- 
world  of  fancies.  That's  the  kingdom  of  the 
children.  Nearly  everyone  leaves  it  afterwards. 
But  the  elect  always  hold  their  places  there. 
They  never  forget  the  games  and  the  dreams. 
That's  what   gives  distinction   to  their   humour 


80  COUSIN   KATE 

and  imagination;  a  charm  to  the  point  of  view; 
the  signs  by  which  their  scattered  spirits  beckon 
each  other  after  they  are  grown  up.  And  how 
could  they  hold  their  places  in  the  kingdom  if 
they  forgot  exactly  how  it  felt  to  be  a  child  ?  And 
how  could  they  remember  that,  if  they  forgot 
anything  so  important  as  the  nursery  stories? 

Kate. 

[Charmed  with  his  speech,  sits  amiably  on  the 
settle.]  Tell  me  about  Silverlocks  and  the  three 
bears. 

Heath. 

Well  —  she  went  for  a  walk  one  day.  Silver- 
locks  did,  and  she  came  to  a  little  house  in  a 
wood  where  the  three  bears  lived,  but  they  were 
all  out.  So  first  she  drank  their  soup  —  at  least 
she  only  tasted  the  father  and  mother  bears'  soup, 
but  she  drank  the  little  one's  all  up.  There's  a 
picture  of  her  drinking  it  out  of  a  blue  bowl. 

Kate. 

[Suddenly.']  Oh,  yes.  She  had  a  yellow  dress 
on. 

Heath. 

[Delighted.]  Yes.  You  do  remember  her? 
[Drops  beside  Kate  on  the  settle.]  I  knew  you 
must  be  one  of  us  when  I  found  you  singing  grand 
opera  all  by  yourself.     That's  one  of  the  signs. 


COUSIN   KATE  81 

Kate. 

[Amused.']  I  never  met  anyone  like  you  in 
my  life. 

Heath. 

[Sentimentally.l  I've  been  looking  for  you 
a  long  time. 

Kate. 
[Embarrassed.]     Hadn't  we  better —    [Rises.] 

Heath. 

[Jumping  up  cheerfully.]  Make  tea  —  yes. 
We  must  hurry  up  and  light  a  fire.  The  three 
bears  ought  to  have  done  that  before  they  went 
out.  We  want  some  paper  first,  then  some  chips, 
then  some  coal. 

Kate. 

[Protesting  a  little  at  his  instructions.]  I 
know  how  to  lay  a  fire. 

Heath. 

[Taking  a  newspaper  from  his  pocJcet.]  Oh! 
[Goes  towards  her.]  Then  will  you  crumple  that 
up  in  the  grate?  [She  tahes  the  paper  from  him 
mechanically.]  While  I  go  and  look  for  coal 
and  stuff.  [He  goes  out  quickly,  leaving  the  door 
open.  Kate  crosses  to  the  fireplace,  stands  still 
a  moment,  then  throws  the  paper  on  the  floor.] 

Kate. 
[With  decision.]     No,  Kate,  it  won't  do. 


82  COUSIN   KATE 

[She  crosses  to  the  chair  hy  the  piano, 
mounts  it  and  takes  her  hat  from  the 
antlers,  steps  off  the  chair,  puts  her  hat 
on  hastily,  takes  her  sunshade  and  gloves 
and  coat  from  the  table,  goes  to  the 
door,  pushes  it  to,  then  goes  to  the  win- 
dow, looks  round  at  the  door,  then  pulls 
up  her  skirts  and  prepares  to  mount  the 
windowsill.  As  she  steps  on  to  the 
windowsill.  Heath  enters  with  a  kettle 
in  his  right  hand  and  a  coal-box  with 
coal  and  wood  in  his  left. 

Heath. 

[Pauses  on  the  threshold  and  looks  at  her.] 
Hullo! 

Kate. 
[Screams.l    Oh ! 

[She  quickly  lets  her  skirt  down  and  looks 
round.  Heath  deposits  the  kettle  and 
the  coal-box  on  the  floor,  then  goes 
towards  her. 

Heath. 

Why? 

Kate. 
I'd  better. 

Heath. 

Where's  the  harm?  We  could  be  so  jolly 
together.  You  might  trust  me.  I'm  really  nice. 
I'm  not  dangerous. 


COUSIN   KATE  83 

Kate. 

Dangerous  men  aren't  half  as  dangerous  as 
nice  ones. 

Heath. 

You'll  feel  all  right  about  staying  to  tea  — 
when  you've  had  tea. 

Kate. 
But  —  I'd  better  not. 

Heath. 
You  know  you'll  wish  you  had  if  you  don't. 

Kate. 

It'll  be  better  to  wish  I  had  than  to  wish  I 
hadn't. 

Heath. 

I  never  met  anyone  I  could  get  on  with  quite 
so  well,  but  of  course  if  you  want  to  be  prudish 
and  think  we  ought  to  throw  away  such  a  good 
chance  of  being  just  our  natural  selves  — 

[Wanders  towards  the  piano,  opens  the  top 
lid  and  peers  among  the  wires  with  one 
eye  on  Kate.  Kate  remains  standing 
on  the  window-seat  in  a  state  of  inde- 
cision, thinTcing  she  ought  to  go,  hut 
longing  to  stay.  Bedding  not  to  go  yet, 
she  slowly  lets  fall  her  coat,  her  gloves. 


84  COUSIN    KATE 

and  her  sunshade,  one  by  one  on  the  win- 
dow-seat beside  her.  She  glances  at 
Heath.  He  appears  to  be  taking  no  no- 
tice of  her.  She  steps  off  the  window- 
seat  and  stands  still  a  moment,  not  quite 
knowing  how  to  proceed.  At  last,  re- 
ceiving no  help  from  Heath,  she  boldly 
seizes  the  kettle,  hurries  with  it  to  the 
hearth,  and  kneels  in  front  of  the  fire- 
place. 

Kate. 
Now  the  chips. 

[Heath  brings  her  the  coal-box  with  the 
wood,  etc. 

Heath. 

Here  they  are,  and  the  paper.     [She  lays  the 
fire  as  she  speaks.} 

Kate. 
By  the  way,  wasn't  it  Silverlocks  who  had  to 
look  after  the  fire? 

Heath. 

[Giving  her  a  match.']     No,  that  was  Cinder- 
ella. 

Kate. 

Oh,  yes,  with  the  ugly  sisters. 

Heath. 
And  the  Prince  —  she  fell  in  love  with  him. 


COUSIN   KATE  85 

Kate. 
[LooJcs  at  him.]     Oh—     [Lights  the  fire.] 

Heath. 
Yes.     And  she  married  him. 

Kate. 

Yes  —  but  I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  so  much 
when  you  see  I'm  busy, 

[He    goes    towards    the    door    while    she 
watches  the  fire. 

Heath. 
I'll  go  and  look  for  cups  and  things.     [Hes- 
itates near  the  door.]     I  say,  you  won't  go  away 
while  I'm  out,  will  you? 

Kate. 
What  do  you  say? 

Heath. 
You  won't  go  away  while  I'm  out? 

[She  takes  off  her  hat  and  lays  it  on  the 
settle  for  response,  then  turns  to  the 
fire  again,  stooping  on  the  hearth  and 
poking  chips  between  the  bars,  before  sJie 
puts  the  kettle  on.  He  watches  her, 
then  tiptoes  to  the  seat,  takes  her  hat 
and  tiptoes   out   with  it,   half-running 


86  COUSIN   KATE 

■  and  glancing  hack  at  her  as  he  goes. 
Kate  sits  on  the  hearth  with  a  sigh  of 
pleasure. 

Kate. 

[Talking  aloud  to  herself.]  Oh,  Kate,  why  not 
for  once  in  a  way?  It's  good  experience  for  you, 
and  it  may  do  to  put  in  your  next  novel.  If  he 
gets  too  —  [She  rises  and  stands  on  the  hearth.] 
You  can  make  a  few  queenly  gestures  and  sweep 
out.     [Turns  to  the  settle.]     Where's  my  hat? 

[Heath  enters.  He  has  a  common  tea- 
pot and  two  cups  hanging  from  the 
fingers  of  his  right  hand.  In  the  same 
hand  he  carries  some  knives  and  spoons 
and  two  saucers  and  a  hutter-dish.  In 
his  left  hand  a  bread  trencher  with 
Kate's  hat  on  it.  Half  a  loaf  squeezed 
under  one  arm,  and  a  milk-jug  pressed 
against  his  side  tvith  the  other.  A  small 
paper  hag  in  his  mouth. 

Heath. 

[Speaking  with  the  hag  in  his  mouth.]  This 
is  the  tea  in  this  bag. 

[Kate  laughs  when  he  enters,  goes  to  him 
and  helps  him  to  deposit  the  things  on 
the  table.  She  now  abandons  herself  to 
the  spirit  of  the  picnic. 

Heath. 
[With  the  hag  in  his  mouth.]     Take  the  tea. 


COUSIN   KATE  87 

Kate. 
Give  me  the  cups.     Now  the  knives.     Oh    be 
eyeful  — now     the     teapot  — now     the     tea  — 
H  a/ces  the  bag  from  his  mouth  and  lays  it  down.] 

Heath. 
Here's  the  milk.     And  here^  the  bread. 

Kate. 
Now,  you  watch  the  kettle  while  I  lay  the  table. 
[He  goes  to  the  hearth,  while  she  quicJcly 
arranges   the   things  on   the   table,  and 
puts  tea  in  the  teapot. 


Heath 

^      thrfip  } 

we've  finished. 


I  hope  the  three  bears  won't  come  home  before 


Kate. 

What  happened  to  Silverlocks  when  they  came 
home  ?  "^ 

Heath. 
We'll  kill  the  child  and  e^t  her  for  our  dinner ' 
The  Father  growled;  but  said  the  Mother:  ^  No 
For  supper  she  shall  be,  and  I  will  skin  her.' "  ' 

Kate. 
[In  a  little  sgueaJcy  voice.]     "'No,'  said  the 
Little    Cub,    'we'll   let   her   go.'"      [They   both 
laugh  as  she  pushes  a  loaf  and  hnife  towards 


88  COUSIN   KATE 

HeatHj  who  joins  her  at  the  tahle.li     You  cut, 
I'll  butter. 

Heath. 

I'm  awfully  hungry  —  aren't  you?  We  didn't 
have  much  lunch,  did  we?     Only  one  between  us. 

Kate. 

I  suppose  you  mean  I  didn't  divide  the  chicken 
fairly. 

[She  smiles  at  him.  He  laughs  with  pleas- 
ure, and  goes  on  cutting  bread  as  he 
speaks. 

Heath. 

I  never  thought  when  we  finished  our  last  meal 
that  we'd  be  having  the  next  together.  I  wish  — 
[Giving  her  a  slice  of  bread  as  he  says,  senti- 
mentally.li    I  wish  we  could  have  all  our  meals  — 

Kate. 

[To  interrupt  him.']  I'm  sure  that  kettle  must 
be  boiling.  [Ooes  over  to  the  hearth.  Heath 
smiles  to  himself  and  wags  his  head,  knowingly, 
luhen  her  bach  is  turned.  She  looks  at  the  kettle, 
then  turns  to  him.']  What  does  a  kettle  do  when 
it  boils  ?    Does  it  just  smoke  ? 

Heath. 
I  think  it  spits. 

Kate. 

It's  beginning  to  growl  a  little.  Does  that 
mean  anything? 


COUSIN   KATE  89 

Heath. 
[Goes  towards  the  kettle,  a  little  anxiomlvA 
I  dont  know.  But  I^m  sure  the  lid  comes  off 
when  it  boils  over.  \_Bends  down  and  peers  at 
the  kettle,  then  says,  humourously.']  I  wish  we'd 
brought  a  cookery-book.  [Kate  laughs  and 
kneels  down  in  front  of  the  kettle.  He  stands 
behind  her,  looking  down  at  her.]  I  say  D'ye 
know,  your  hair's  a  little  rufflled? 

Kate. 
[Amiably.']     Is  it  — where? 

Heath. 

In  that  place  it's  so  difficult  for  you  to  eet  at 
yourself.     [Touches  her  hair.] 

Kate. 
[Loftily.]     Oh.     [Rises  and  moves  slowly   to 
the  window,  where  she  stands  and  looks  out.] 

Heath. 
[Watching  her.]     The  girl  rose  from  the  fender 
and   fixing   him   with   a   haughty   glance   swept 
across  the  apartment  with  the  air  of  a   queen. 
She  stood  gazing  wistfully  across  the  park  — 

[Kate  laughs  and  turns  from  the  window. 

Kate. 
It's  no  use  pretending  with  you. 


90  .   COUSIN   KATE 

Heath. 

[Smiling  franTcly.l  Not  the  slightest.  But  of 
course  it's  all  right  for  you  to  keep  your  spikes 
out  for  a  little  while.  I  don't  see  how  a  really 
nice  woman  could  do  anything  else. 

KJlTE. 

[Comes  towards  him  protesting.li  I'm  not  a 
really  nice  woman,  I  mean  —  I'm  an  individual 
like  you.  [He  looks  up  at  her,  smiles  knowingly; 
she  becomes  emharrassed.l  Oh,  the  kettle. 
[Ooes  quickly  to  the  fire.'\ 

Heath. 

Spikes! 

Kate. 

[Anxiously  looking  at  the  kettle.l  No  —  but 
it's  — it's  — 

Heath. 

[Excitedly,  looking  at  the  kettle."]  It's  spit- 
ting. 

Kate. 

Yes.     Catch  hold. 

Heath. 
It'll  burn  me. 

Kate. 

[Gives  him  her  handkerchief.]  Wrap  this 
round. 

[He  wraps  the  handkerchief  round  his  left 


COUSIN   KATE  91 

hand,  takes  the  kettle  off  the  fire  and 
hurries  to  the  table  with  it. 

Heath. 

Ah!  Oh!  [Yells  as  he  pours  the  water  into 
the  teapot. 1 

Kate. 

[Anxiously,  as  she  comes  to  him.]  Did  you 
burn  yourself? 

Heath. 

[Howls  as  he  holds  out  his  left  hand  to  her 
with  the  handherchief  round  it.]  I  think  so,  I 
think  so. 

IShe  unwinds  the  handherchief  carefully 
and  examines  his  hand.  He  grimaces 
when  she  looks  at  his  face,  and  smiles 
when  she  looks  at  his  hand. 

Kate. 
[Taking  her  handkerchief  and  dropping  his 
hand.]  N"o,  you  didn't.  [Heath  laughs,  and 
puts  the  kettle  back  in  the  fender.  She  turns  to 
the  table  smiling.]  Let's  eat.  [They  sit  oppo- 
site each  other  at  the  table.    Kate  makes  the  tea.] 

Heath. 
I  like  mine  strong  with  lots  of  sugar. 

Kate. 
You'll  have  to  wait  till  it  mixes. 


92  COUSIN   KATE 

Heath. 

Brews  is  the  word. 

[Kate  laughs,  then  regards  him  steadily 
across  the  table. 

Kate. 
I  don't  know  what  you  are. 

Heath. 
I'm  Dublin. 

Kate. 

Is  that  why  you're  so  unpractical? 

Heath. 

I  had  to  tell  you  what  a  kettle  does  when  it's 
ready. 

Kate. 

We  must  both  be  artists. 

Heath. 

We  might  be  just  a  rich  lady  and  gentleman 
who've  always  been  too  grand  to  work. 

Kate. 

Oh,  no.  They  never  enjoy  themselves  as  much 
as  this.  [She  pours  out  two  cups  of  tea.  When 
she  puts  the  teapot  down  their  eyes  meet.^ 

Heath. 

[Slowly.']  Well,  at  any  rate  we  —  are  —  oppo- 
site each  other  again. 


COUSIN   KATE  93 

[Kate  drops  her  eyes.  Pushes  one  cup 
over  to  Heath.  Takes  her  own.  There 
is  a  short,  embarrassed  silence. 

Kate. 
Is  your  tea  all  right? 

Heath. 
[Drinhs;    then   says,   seriously.]     Yes,   thank 
you.     [Then  mocking  the  constraint  of  the  sit- 
uation.}    It's  a  charming  afternoon,  is  it  not? 

[Kate  laughs. 

Kate. 

What  possible  connection  can  you  have  with  a 
workaday  world? 

Heath. 
Tm  only  rotting  now  so  that  I  won't  tell  the 
truth.     [Leans  across  the  table.]     Were  you  ever 
in  love? 

Kate. 
[Smiles  thoughtfully.]     I'm  twenty-nine. 

Heath. 
[Confidentially.]     Tell  me  about  the  first  time. 

Kate. 
I  can't  remember  which  it  was. 


94  COUSIN    KATE 

Heath. 


As  many  as  that? 


Kate. 


[Simply. 1  My  world  has  been  filled  with  two 
kinds  of  men:  the  men  I  loved  and  the  men  who 
loved  me.  They  were  never  the  same.  [Leans 
bac1c.'\     Now  I've  told  you  the  story  of  my  life. 

Heath. 
Then  you've  never  met  Mm. 

Katk 
I'm  only  twenty-nine. 

Heath. 
You  will  meet  him. 

Kate. 

I  don't  intend  to  die  until  I  do. 

[They  laugh.  They  both  drinh  and  Heath 
watches  her  over  his  cup  all  the  time. 
Kate  meets  Heath's  eyes,  puts  her  cup 
down,  looks  into  it  and  stirs  the  dregs 
round  with  her  spoon.  She  looks  up 
again,  meeting  his  eyes.  She  gives  a  ner- 
vous half-laugh  and  drops  her  eyes. 
Heath  puts  his  cup  down,  watching  her 
steadily.    Kate  grows  more  uneasy. 


COUSIN   KATE  95 

Heath. 
Do  you  believe  in  love  at  first  sight? 

Kate. 
Yes  —  no  —  that  is  —  I  don't  know. 

Heath. 
It's  the  only  real  love,  isn't  it? 

Kate. 
Yes. 

Heath. 
You  see  someone  pass,  and  all  of  a  sudden,  you 
get  such  a  funny  feeling  in  your  throat. 

Kate. 

[Putting  her  hand  to  her  hearf]     Yes  —  and 
here. 

Heath. 
Yes,    and    here.     [Rubs    his    knee.'\     Doesn't 
love   at   first   sight    catch   you   in   your   knees? 
[With  enthusiasm.]     And  isn't  it  all  grand  and 
exciting  and  the  only  thing  vt^orth  living  for? 

Kate. 
[Sadly.]     And  isn't  it  soon  over? 

Heath. 
It  always  is,  but  don't  you  feel  that  it  needn't 


96  COUSIN    KATE 

be,  and  that  when  you  meet  the  perfect  compan- 
ion —  it  won't  be  ? 

Kate. 

[Responding  earnestly. ]     Yes  — 

Heath. 

[Pauses  before  he  says,  simply.'\     I'm  in  love 
with  you. 

Kate. 

[Disconcerted  and  troubled.l     Please  —  don't. 

Heath. 
You  must  have  seen  it. 

Kate. 
But  —  how  can  you  —  yet? 

Heath. 
It  takes  no  time  to  fall  in  love. 

Kate. 
You've  spoilt  everything  by  saying  that  —  now. 

Heath. 
I  shall  never  be  more  sure  than  now. 

Kate. 

But   it's   beginning   at   the   wrong   end   to   be 
lovers  before  you  know  if  you  can  be  friends. 


COUSIN   KATE  97 

Heath. 
Oh,  no.  If  we  are  lovers  we  shall  be  friends. 
We  can  if  we  try.  But  we  might  be  the  best  of 
friends,  we  couldn't  become  lovers  with  trying. 
So  it's  beginning  at  the  right  end  to  be  lovers 
first. 

Kate. 

[After  a  moment's  reflection.']  Pm  sure  that's 
not  sound  logic. 

Heath. 

Love  isn't  logical. 

Kate. 

[Turns  to  him  slowly.']  But  if  you  were  in 
love  with  a  woman  you  hardly  knew,  as  you  say 
you  are  now —     [Pauses.] 

Heath. 

[Sincerely.]  I  shouldn't  care  how  wicked  or 
married  she  was.  I  should  leave  everything  to 
follow  her. 

Kate. 

[With  enthusiasm.]  That's  the  way  to  love, 
isn't  it? 

Heath. 

[Leaning  towards  her.]  It's  the  way  I  love 
you.  [She  looks  away  from  him.]  Would  you 
have  to  know  everything  about  a  man  before  you 
could  care  for  him? 


98  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 

[LooJcing  straight  before  her.']  No.  If  I 
loved  him  I  could  forgive  him  everything.  But 
—  [Her  voice  breaks  with  emotion.l  I  never 
thought  anyone  would  love  me  like  that.  [He 
puts  his  hand  over  hers  which  she  rests  on  the 
table.  She  rises,  half-afraid,  looking  at  him  and 
withdrawing  her  hand.]  Oh,  but  you  don't  mean 
it.  [He  rises  and  goes  towards  her.  She  moves 
a  little  away,  putting  out  her  hands,  imploring 
him  not  to  approach  her.]  Please,  please.  [He 
goes  slowly  to  the  window  and  looks  out.] 

Heath. 

It's  going  to  rain. 

[The  stage  has  gradually  grown  darker  as 
if  heavy  thunder-clouds  were  gathering. 

Kate. 

[Hurriedly.]  I  must  go.  [She  goes  to  get 
her  hat  and  sunshade.  A  distant  rumble  of  thun- 
der is  heard.] 

Heath. 

There's  going  to  be  a  storm.  [Turns  to  her.] 
You  can't  go  till  it  passes. 

Kate. 

[Nervously ;  taking  her  hat  in  her  hand.]  T 
don't  mind  walking  in  the  rain,  tliank  you. 


COUSIN   KATE  99 

Heath. 

[Ooing  towards  her;  speaking  as  a  lover.']  The 
storm  might  be  rough  and  hurt  you.  I  can't  bear 
to  think  of  the  rain  falling  on  you,  or  the  wind 
blowing  your  face  too  hard. 

Kate. 

[LooJcs  at  him  with  gratitude  and  wonder  as 
she  lays  her  hat  down  again,  then  says  slowly.] 
Do  you  care  like  that  ? 

Heath. 

How  can  I  help  caring?  Doesn't  everyone  love 
you?     [Takes  her  hand.] 

Kate. 

[Slowly,  with  a  faint  smile.]  Yes.  But  I 
don't  think  there's  anyone  else  who'd  think  it 
mattered  if  I  got  caught  in  the  rain. 

Heath. 

[Close  to  her,  bends  over  her  as  he  speaks, 
taking  her  hands  in  his.  She  looks  at  him  half' 
charmed  and  half-afraid.]  I'll  take  care  of  you. 
ril  shelter  you. 

Kate. 

[Hurriedly.]     No,  no.     We  mustn't. 

Heath. 
[Speaking  in  his  soft  lover's  voice  as  his  arms 


100  COUSIN   KATE 

close  round  her.]  I  want  to  shelter  you  always, 
{^Drawing  her  closer  and  turning  her  towards 
him.}     1  love  you! 

Kate. 

[^Breathlessly,  alarmed,  hut  yielding  gradually 
to  his  fascination.^  Oh  —  but  —  what  are  we 
doing  ? 

[He  folds  his  arms  fast  round  her.  His 
face  is  close  to  hers.  He  looks  in  her 
eyes.  He  kisses  her  slowly  on  the  mouth. 
She  yields  herself  to  him  entirely.  A 
peal  of  thunder  surprises  them.  She 
draws  herself  away  from  him  at  the 
sound  of  it.  She  sinks  into  a  chair, 
hursts  into  tears,  huries  her  face  on  her 
arms  and  sohs.  Heath  goes  quietly  to 
the  window,  closes  it,  and  comes  hack  to 
Kate.  She  is  sohhing  hitterly.  Heath 
takes  her  hand  in  his  and  holds  it. 

Kate. 

No,  no,  you  don't  mean  it.  [She  rises  to  her 
feet  and  moves  away  from  him,  speaking  ex- 
citedly.'] You're  making  love  to  me  to  see  me 
yield.  And  then  you'll  despise  me  —  and  laugh 
at  me.  [He  turns  from  her,  looking  very  trou- 
hied.]  You're  laughing  now.  [He  turns  his 
troubled  face  towards  her.  She  softens  in- 
stantly.] Oh!  [She  hecomes  penitent.]  For- 
give me,  please,  please  forgive  me.  [He  puts  his 
arms  about  her;  she  looks  in  his  face.]     I  could 


COUSIN  KATE  101 

love  you  so  much.  [Slowly  pushing  him  from 
her.'\  If  I  thought —  [Dubiously,  as  she  looks 
searchingly  at  him.'\  If  I  was  sure  —  [Pauses. 
He  looks  at  her  before  he  speaks  gently  and 
earnestly.^ 

Heath. 

I  feel  you  are  sincere  because  I've  looked  into 
your  eyes.  That's  the  only  way  lovers  can  ever 
know. 

Kate. 

[Turns  to  him  responsively,  then  stops  doubt- 
fully.l  But  you  say  that  as  if  you'd  had  a  great 
deal  of  experience. 

Heath. 

I'll  tell  you  the  truth.  Once  for  a  long  time 
I  thought  I  was  in  love,  but  now  I  know  that  I 
never  loved  anyone  but  you. 

Kate. 

[Joyfully  looking  in  his  face,  draws  suddenly 
hack  from  him,  doubtful  again.]  Oh,  but  they 
always  say  that.  -^{WajMa-miserable  Irttte  laitghJ] 
I'm  not  quite  so  simpl/as  —  as  not  to  know  that 
there  are  men  who  ihake  love  out  of  curiosity. 
Who  try  to  kiss  a  \^man,  not  because  they  want 
to,, but  to  see  if  s^e  will  or  she  won't.  [Moves 
away  from  him.'} 

r 

Heath. 
I  say,  you  know,  it's  not  fair  of  you  to  take  it 


102  COUSIN   KATE 

for  granted  that  I  doit't  mean  what  I  say,  because 
—  I  do. 

.    Kate. 

\_Comes  impulsively  towards  him,  putting  her 
hands  on  his  arrns.^  I  want  you  all  to  myself. 
[Holding  him.^  You'll  never  kiss  another 
woman,  will  you? 

Heath. 

[SmilingA     Never. 

/  Kate. 

[Im^lsively.']     You  won't  even  speak  to  one,  . 
or  loqjf  at  one. 

/  Heath. 

^0,  dear,  no. 
^  Kate. 

[Breaking  away  from  him.^  Oh,  how  do  I 
know  you  rruil^t  ?    ct-o 

[He   holds  her  firmly   hy   the  wrist,   not 
letting  her  move  away. 

Heath. 

[Almost  sternly.']  You  don't  know.  You've 
got  to  tru^t  me. 

Kate. 

[Turns  to  him,  arrested  by  his  authority,  he- 
comes  submissive.]  Yes,  I  will.  iKin  not  usually 
an  angry  woman,  but  I'm  so  afr^ald  of  losing  you 
and  I  think  I'm  a  little  excited.  [There  is  an- 
other flash  of  lightning,  followed  by  a  peal  of 


COUSIN  KATE  103 

thunder.     She  puts   her   hands   over  her   eyes.^ 
Oh,  that  lightning.     It  makes  me  so  nervous. 

IHe  goes  quietly  towards  the  window. 
She  draws  her  hands  from  her  eyes. 
Starts  with  alarm  at  seeing  he  is  not  at 
her  side,  then  turns  towards  him  ex- 
citedly. 

Kate. 

What  are  you  doing? 

Heath. 

I'm  going  to  draw  the  curtains  so  that  you 
won't  see  the  lightning. 

[He  draws  the  curtains.  Kate  looks  at 
him  suspiciously.  She  quichly  lights 
the  candles. 

Heath. 

[As  he  turns  from  the  window  and  sees  her 
lighting  the  candles.'\  Yes,  that's  a  good  idea. 
Now  we  shan't  see  it  so  much.  [She  looks  at 
him  suspiciously,  her  face  strongly  illuminated 
by  the  light  of  the  candles.']     What  is  it? 

Kate. 

I  thought  you  were  going  to  make  the  room 
dark  so  that  you  could  slip  out  and  leave  me. 
[He  turns  from  her,  puzzled  what  to  do.  She 
starts  towards  him  when  he  turns  from  her,  more 
excited  than  ever.]  Why  do  you  turn  away? 
You're  tired  of  me  already.     [He  turns  towards 


104  COUSIN   KATE 

her  imploringly.  She  draws  back.']  No,  no. 
You  only  turn  to  me  because  I  ask  you.  Oh,  why 
did  you  follow  me?  You  forced  yourself  on  me. 
I'd  have  been  strong  another  time  —  but  I 
couldn't  to-day  —  I  couldn't  —  [Sobs  hysteric- 
ally,  and  sinks  upon  the  settle.  Heath  watches 
her  gravely  till  her  sobs  subside  a  little.  She 
becomes  gradually  calm  as  he  speaks  to  her  gently 
and  firmly.} 

Heath. 

I  shan't  force  myself  upon  you  any  more.  But 
I'll  never  leave  you  while  you  let  me  stay.  You 
must  take  my  promise  for  that.  If  I'd  known 
you  for  years  I  couldn't  give  you  more  now.  You 
and  I  both  know  the  real  man  and  woman  from 
the  sham.  We  were  quick  to  recognize  each  other. 
I  believe  in  you  forever.  You  must  do  the  same 
for  me  if  you  want  our  love  to  last. 

[She  rises  and  comes  towards  him,  sub- 
missively. He  holds  out  his  hand  to 
her. 

Kate. 

How  you  must  hate  me  for  giving  way  like 
this. 

Heath. 

[Gently,  as  he  takes  her  hands.]  No,  dear,  I 
understand. 

Kate. 
Do  you,  really? 


COUSIN   KATE  105 

Heath. 

I  love  you  for  giving  way,  because  by  that  I 
know  I  was  the  first. 

Kate. 

[Looking  in  his  face.']  Yes.  You  were. 
[Fondling  his  hand  in  both  hers  as  she  speaks.] 
And,  after  all,  I  suppose  you  really  might  fall 
in  love  with  me  at  first  sight.     I  did  with  you. 

Heath. 

[Smiling.]  I  loved  you  the  minute  I  got  in 
the  railway  carriage  —  no,  before  —  when  I  put 
my  toe  on  the  step  to  get  in. 

Kate. 

[Smiling.]  I  was  the  first.  I  saw  you  coming 
down  the  platform,  slantways  through  the  win- 
dow.    Oh!     I  was  so  afraid  you'd  go  past  me. 

Heath. 

And  I  was  so  afraid  you'  wouldn't  be  in  the 
train. 

Kate. 

How  could  you  be?    You  didn't  know  me. 

Heath. 

But  I've  always  been  looking  out  for  you. 
Whenever  i  start  on  a  journey,  or  even  walking 
down  the  street,  I  scan  the  people's  faces  and 


106  COUSIN   KATE 

wonder  if  one  of  them  is  yours.  Sometimes  I 
think  I  see  you.  She  has  a  little  way  of  inclining 
as  she  walks,  or  tilting  her  chin,  or  saying  some- 
thing, or  generally  of  laughing  —  which  makes 
me  think  she  must  be  you.  I  watch  my  chances 
and  pursue  her.  But  very  soon  I  find  out  that 
she  isn't  you  at  all.  But  to-day  she  was  you. 
Oh,  I've  found  you  at  last.  [He  takes  her  in  his 
arms.'] 

Kate. 

And  you  won't  go  away? 

Heath. 
Never. 

[He  kisses  her  slowly  and  tenderly,  then 
with  their  arms  about  each  other  they 
move  slowly  towards  the  settle.  Kate 
sits  down  there.  Heath  on  a  stool  at 
her  feet.  They  settle  themselves  com- 
fortably, leaning  against  each  other, 
with  hands  clasped. 

Kate. 
Yes,  like  this. 

Heath. 

[Dreamily.']  We'll  pretend  we  are  sitting  at 
home  by  our  own  fire.  We'll  often  sit  like  this 
—  won't  we  —  and  listen  to  the  rain?  Only  it'll 
be  a  little  house  in  a  wood,  like  the  one  the  three 
bears  lived  in.     I'll  make  it  out  of  branches. 


.  COUSIN   KATE  107 

Kate. 

^[Softly.']  Could  we  really  live  in  a  little  house 
like  that? 

Heath. 

Yes.  We'll  live  all  by  ourselves.  Would  you 
like  that? 

Kate. 

Yes.  But  I'm  afraid  you'd  get  tired  with  only 
me. 

Heath. 

No,  dear,  I  wouldn't.  If  we  wanted  a  little 
gaiety  we  could  go  and  call  on  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Squirrel,  or  ask  Miss  Weasel  to  tea. 

Kate. 
And  where  would  we  get  our  food? 

Heath. 

We'd  ask  Mrs.  Squirrel  the  best  place  to  go  for 
nuts,  and  there'd  be  a  little  stream  running  past 
our  front  door  where  we'd  fish  in  the  mornings. 

Kate. 
[Very  softly. Ji     Can't  we  go  to  it  now? 

Heath. 

[Closing  his  eyes.'\  Yes  —  as  soon  as  the  rain 
stops. 

[He  leans  against  her  with  closed  eyes  as 
if  he  were  going  to  sleep.    Kate  looJcs 


108  COUSIN    KATE 

dreamily  in  the  fire.     They  are  silent. 
A  clock  outside  strikes  six. 

Kate. 

[Starts,  as  if  coming  out  of  a  dream.'\  Six. 
[Uneasily.^     I'd  forgotten  about  clocks. 

Heath. 

[Without  opening  his  eyes."]  There'll  be  no 
clocks  in  the  wood. 

Kate. 

We  mustn't  talk  any  more  nonsense. 

Heath. 

[Looking  up  at  her.]  We  are  talking  sense. 
That's  nonsense  all  the  other  people  talk  — 
[Pointing  to  window.]  Out  there  in  their  big, 
noisy  world.  They  don't  know  about  our  little 
world.  [Sits  heside  her  on  the  seat,  his  arm 
about  her.] 

Kate. 

[Troubled;  looking  away  from  him.]  This 
isn't  the  world. 

Heath. 

No,  dear  —  it's  Paradise. 

Kate. 
But  we  aren't  ready  for  Paradise  yet.     [Rises.] 
We  must  go  back.     Back  to  life.     This  isn't  life. 


COUSIN   KATE  109 

by  a  dim  light  and  a  drowsy  fire.  [She  goes  to 
the  window  and  draws  the  curtain.  A  pale,  white 
light  comes  from  the  window  and  takes  away  all 
the  warmth  from  the  candle  light  and  firelight. 
She  turns  to  him,  pointing  from  the  window  as 
she  speaks.l  There!  That's  life  out  in  the 
storm.  If  our  love  is  real  it  will  weather  the 
wind  and  the  rain. 

Heath. 
But  let  it  sit  a  little  longer  by  the  fire  first. 

Kate. 

[Takes  his  hands.l  N"o.  I  must  go  away. 
But  we'll  take  it  with  us  wherever  we  go.  It's 
going  to  be  an  ennobling  love  to  help  us  when 
we  work,  so  that  we  shan't  feel  ashamed  of  it 
when  it's  time  to  draw  our  blinds  and  light  our 
lamps.  It  must  spend  good  days  to  earn  its 
pleasant  evenings.  Then  we'll  let  it  dream  a 
little. 

Heath. 

[He  hisses  her  hand.^  And  you'll  meet  me 
very  soon? 

Kate. 

Yes. 

Heath. 

When? 

Kate. 

A  month  from  to-day? 


110  COUSIN   KATE 

Heath. 
[Protesting.']     A  month  I 

Kate. 
Well  —  a  fortnight. 


Heath. 

Kate. 

Heath. 


That's  too  long. 
A  week. 

To-morrow. 

Kate. 
To-morrow  at  three  o'clock. 

Heath. 
I  can't  wait  so  long  as  that. 

Kate. 

Then  make  it  half-past  two. 

[They  both  laugh.  There  is  a  ring  at  the 
front-door  hell.  They  look  at  each  other 
and  become  very  serious. 

Heath. 
Shall  I  go  and  see? 

Kate. 
[Considers  a  moment.}     No,  I'll  go. 


COUSIN   KATE  111 

[ELA.TE  goes  out,  leaving  the  door  ajar. 
Heath  goes  to  the  door  and  listens. 

Amy. 

{Heard  outside.^  Here  you  are.  I've  brought 
you  an  umbrella. 

Heath. 

[Greatly  disconcerted.']  Amy!  How  awk- 
ward !     What  sliall  I  say  to  her  ? 

{He  takes  his  hat  quickly  from  the  table 
and  goes  to  the  window,  is  about  to  open 
it  when  Amy  opens  the  door.  He  slips 
behind  the  window  curtain. 

[Amy  enters  in  her  bicycling  costume,  carrying 
an  umbrella.  Kate  follows  her,  trying  to 
conceal  her  embarrassment. 

Amy. 
What  a  time  the  storm  lasted. 

Kate. 

Yes  — didn't  it?  [Looking  about  furtively, 
says  to  herself.]    I  wonder  where  he  went. 

Amy. 

Mother  thought  I'd  better  come  over  and  see 
if  you  were  all  right,  so  as  soon  as  it  stopped 
pouring,  I  got  on  my  bicycle  and  brought  this. 
[Lays  the  umbrella  against  the  seat.] 


112  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 
[To  herself.]     His  hat's  gone. 

Amy. 

You  must  have  been  awfully  dull  here  by  your- 
self. 

Kate. 

Oh,  no,  it  wasn't  so  dull. 

Amy. 

[Noticing  the  tea  things.]  I  see  you  found 
some  tea  things. 

Kate. 

Yes.  [Glancing  at  the  window.]  He  must 
have  gone  the  way  he  came. 

Amy. 
It  looks  as  if  two  people  had  had  tea. 

Kate. 
[Staring  at  the  table.]     Does  it? 

Amy. 
[Pointing.]     Two  cups. 

Kate. 

Yes,  I  had  two  cups.  [Humourously,  pointing 
to  cups.]  That's  my  first  cup,  and  that's  my 
second. 


COUSIN   KATE  113 

Amy. 
[Laughing.'l     Don't  be  silly. 

Kate. 
Tell  me  —  has  Heath  been  to  see  you  ? 

Amy. 

Not  yet.  Hasn't  he  been  here?  [Goes  to  the 
fire.] 

Kate, 

No.  [Starts  suddenly,  unperceived  by  Amy, 
suspecting  the  truth.  After  a  momentary  look  of 
alarm  she  becomes  composed.'] 

Amy. 

[Looking  at  the  fire,  says  innocently.]  Bobby 
went  to  Heath's  lodgings  and  they  said  he'd  gome 
here.  I  suppose  he  hadn't  got  my  letter.  He 
ought  to  have  it  by  now.  Let's  lock  up  and  go. 
Did  you  look  and  see  if  the  upstairs  windows  were 
fastened?  [Kate  doesn't  heed  her;  Amy 
smiles.]  I  knew  you'd  forget.  You  might  just 
fasten  that  one  [indicating  the  window  as  she 
goes  towards  the  door]  while  I  go  upstairs. 
[Turns  at  the  door,  smiling.]  Oh,  I've  found 
out  who  your  charming  young  man  in  the  train 
was.     Can't  you  guess  ? 

Kate. 
[Trying  to  conceal  her  fears.]     No. 


114  COUSIN   KATE 

Amy. 

Try. 

Kate. 

I'd  rather  not. 

Amy. 

Heath. 

[Amy  goes  out  laughing.  Kate  stands 
motionless.  Heath  comes  slowly  from 
behind  the  curtain  and  faces  her. 

Heath. 

[With  intense  earnestness. 1  I'm  not  —  I'm 
not  what  you  think.  She  doesn't  love  me.  She 
drove  me  away  before.  It'll  soon  be  all  right.  I 
meant  every  word  I  said.  I'm  yours  absolutely. 
I  must  be  your  husband  and  you  must  be  my 
wife. 

\_He  approaches  her  with  his  arms  out. 
She  holds  up  her  hand  sternly,  forbid- 
ding him  to  touch  her. 

Kate. 

No  I 

Heath. 

[Dropping  his  hands  by  his  sides.^  I  mean  it. 
I  mean  every  word  I  said.     You  mu^t  believe  me. 

Kate. 

[Deliberately.l  You  were  not  playing  with 
me? 


COUSIN    KATE  115 

Heath. 

No  —  on  my  soul,  no !     I'll  tell  her  now,  before 
you. 

Kate. 

You  say  you  were  not  playing? 

Heath. 

No  —  no ! 

Kate. 

\^Looks   him   steadily   in    the   face   before   she 
says.^     But  /  was. 

[He  steps  hack,  dumbfounded  and  horri- 
fied. 

Heath. 
Ah,  no! 

Kate. 

Yes,  of  course.     You  don't  suppose  for  a  mo- 
ment I  thought  you  were  in  earnest. 

[Amy  enters.     She  stops  on  the  threshold, 
surprised  and  pleased  to  see  Heath. 

Amy. 

Heath !     [Coming    towards    him.l     Have    you 
just  come?     Did  you  get  my  letter? 

Heath. 

[Whose  attitude  to  Amy  is  quiet  and  gentle.^ 
No. 

Amy. 

[Simply  and  penitently.']     I  wrote  to  tell  you 


116  COUSIN   KATE 

how  sorry  1  was,  and  to  ask  you  to  forgive  me. 
Will  you?  [She  holds  out  her  hand  to  him.  He 
takes  it  mechanically.  iShe  thinks  they  are  recon- 
ciled.^ Thank  you.  [Amy  looks  towards  Kate 
a  little  embarrassed.^  You  know  Cousin  Kate 
already,  I  think. 

Heath. 

[Ilurriedly.^     Yes,  yes.    I'll  come  and  see  you 
this  evening  and  explain  everything. 

Amy. 

[Turning  to  Heath,  says  innocently.']     We  can 
do  that  now.     It  won't  take  long. 

Heath. 
[Looking  at  Kate.]     Not  here  —  not  yet. 

Amy. 

[Following  the  direction  of  his  eyes.]     Oh,  I 
see.     You  are  shy  before  Cousin  Kate. 

Heath. 

Yes.     Wait  till  this  evening.     I'll  come  —  this 
evening. 

Amy. 

[Pleasantly.']     Very  well.     Go  home   and  get 
the  letter  and  then  come  and  see  me. 

Heath. 

[Hurriedly.]     Yes.     I'll  do  that. 

[Heath  goes  out  right  without  looking  hack. 


COUSIN   KATE  117 

Amy. 

[LooJcing  after  Heath.]  Poor  Heath.  I  sup- 
pose he  feels  rather  guilty,  too.  [With  a  smile 
and  a  sigh  of  relief.]  Oh,  well;  it's  all  right 
now.  Put  on  your  hat.  Cousin  Kate,  while  I 
put  these  things  away. 

^Takes  up  some  of  the  cups,  etc.,  from  the 
table  and  carries  them  out.  Kate  sits 
forlornly  on  the  settle. 

Kate. 
Oh,  Kate,  Kate!    You  poor  old  fool! 


CURTAIN. 


THE   THIRD   ACT 

SCENE :  —  The  same  as  Act  I.  About  half  an 
hour  has  elapsed  since  Act  II.  The  storm 
being  followed  by  a  fine  sunset.  It  grows 
gradually  dusk  during  the  act, 
Mrs.  Spencer  sits  sewing  on  the  sofa.  Bobby  is 
standing  at  the  window.  Both  are  dressed  as 
in  Act  I. 

Bobby. 
[Calls  from  the  window.]     Hullo,  Amyl 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Putting  down  her  work.']    At  last. 

Bobby. 

[Calling  from  the  window.]  You'd  better  hurry 
up.  You'll  be  late  for  supper.  [Turns  to  his 
mother.]     It's  Amy  by  herself,  on  her  bicycle. 

[Amy  enters  dressed  as  in  Act  II.     She 
looks  very  happy  and  smiling. 

Mrs.  Spenceb. 
Where's  Cousin  Kate? 
118 


COUSIN   KATE  119 

Amy. 

She's  coming.     I  left  her  to  walk.     I  was  in 
such  a  hurry  to  tell  you.    I'\e  seen  Heath. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[In  cheerful  anticipation.]     Oh,  well? 

Amy. 

He  came  to  Owlscot  while  I  was  there.     He's 
coming  here  this  evening. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
And  how  did  he  seem  ? 

Amy. 

I  think  he  was  rather  embarrassed. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Well,  that's  no  wonder. 

Amy. 

No,  and  with  Cousin  Kate  there  we  couldn't 
say  very  much,  but  he  said  he'd  come  this  evening. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Dear  Amy.     [Embraces  her.']     I  had  a  feeling 
it  would  all  come  right  when  Cousin  Kate  came. 
[Amy  turns  smiling  from  Mrs.  Spencer 
to  Bobby. 


120  COUSIN   KATE 

Bobby. 
[Awkwardly. '\     I  say,  I'm  beastly  glad. 

Amy. 

Oh,  Bobby ! 

[Amy  pounces  an  Bobby  and  kisses  him 
on  the  brow.  He  pushes  her  away  dis- 
gusted. 

Bobby. 
Oh,  don't,  Amy. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Now  we  can  open  Mrs.  Darbisher's  present. 
[Ooes  to  the  drawer  where  she  put  the  parcel  in 
Act  I,  getting  it  out  as  she  speaks.]  It  came  about 
three  o'clock,  but  I  didn't  tell  you.  I  thought  it 
would  only  upset  you.  [Oives  the  parcel  to  Amy, 
who  sits  down  and  unpacks  it.  Mrs.  Spencer 
stands  beside  her,  her  eyes  glistening  with  cunos- 
ity  as  she  watches  her.]  It's  sure  to  be  something 
handsome  from  Mrs.  Darbisher.  It  may  be  an 
ostrich  feather  fan,  with  real  tortoise  shell  sticks. 
[Under  the  brown  paper  Amy  finds  a  square  card- 
board box.  She  takes  off  the  lid,  takes  out  a  fat 
parcel  wrapped  in  white  tissue-paper.]  Oh,  it's 
something  squashy  —  lace  —  a  roll  of  priceless 
point  de  venise.  [Amy  takes  off  the  tissue-paper, 
and  holds  up  a  padded  satin  handkerchief  case, 
elaborately  trimmed  with  lace  and  four  long  rib- 
bon ends.  Mrs.  Spencer's  face  betrays  the  keen- 
est disappointment  when  the  present  is  exposed.] 


COUSIN    KATE  121 

Amy, 
A  handkerchief  case. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

She  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  send  a  home-made 
thing  like  that. 

Amy. 

Oh,  mother,  it's  very  pretty. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

For  a  bazaar,  yes  —  but  not  for  a  wedding 
present. 

Amy. 

I  think  it  was  very  kind  of  her  to  remember  me 
at  all. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

That's  nonsense.  Amy.  I  expected  fish  carvers 
at  least  from  Mrs.  Darbisher.  But  I've  noticed 
that  rich  people  often  give  the  scrubbiest  pres- 
ents. 

Amy. 
Oh,  mother! 

Bobby. 

Let's  have  a  look  at  it.  [Talcing  it  very  care- 
fully in  his  hands.]     For  pocket-handkerchiefs? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  suppose  that's  what  she  meant  it  for.  [Fin- 
gers it  contemptuously. 1  It's  hard  to  tell.  Such 
a  puffy  looking  thing. 


122  COUSIN  KATE 

Bobby. 

1*11  tell  you  what  it's  for.  It's  to  put  on  your 
head  when  you  dust.  [He  puts  it  on  his  head. 
Amy  makes  a  grab  at  him.  He  jumps  away  from 
her.  Mrs.  Spencer  and  Amy  laugh  at  him.  He 
ties  two  of  the  ribbons  under  his  chin.']  These 
are  the  strings.  [Tosses  the  other  two  over  his 
shoulders.]  And  these  two  are  the  tails.  [Mrs. 
Spencer  is  convulsed  with  laughter.  Amy  goes 
towards  him  to  take  it  from  him.    He  dodges  her.] 

Amy. 
Don't,  Bobby,  you'll  crush  it. 

Bobby. 

[Taking  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  he 
pretends  to  dust  a  chair.]  You  see  you  go  about  in 
it  to  do  your  mornin'  dustin'  like  this.  It  keeps 
the  dust  out  of  your  hair. 

Amy. 

[Follows  him  laughing,  hut  a  little  alarmed  for 
the  safety  of  the  present.]  Take  it  off.  [He  runs 
away  from  her  behind  the  sofa.]  Catch  him, 
mother.  [They  chase  Bobby  round  the  furniture, 
all  three  laughing  merrily.] 

[Kate  appears  at  the  window  dressed  as  before. 
She  looks  pale  and  dejected.  She  watches 
them  without  smiling  before  they  see  her. 
Mrs.  Spencer  sees  her  first. 


COUSIN   KATE  123 

Mes.  Spencer. 

Oh,  there's  Cousin  Kate. 

[They  stop  the  chase.    Kate  comes  forward 
trying  to  smile. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Out  of  breath.]  What  children  you  must  think 
us,  all  romping  like  this,  but  we're  so  happy. 
[Bobby  throws  the  handkerchief  case  over  to  Amy, 
who  catches  it.  Mrs.  Spencer  jumps  with  fright 
as  it  passes  her.]     Oh,  dear ! 

Amy. 

[Smiling,  as  she  comes  towards  Kate.]  We're 
in  rather  better  spirits  than  when  you  came,  aren't 
we? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

We  were  laughing  over  one  of  Amy's  wedding 
presents.  [To  Amy.]  Just  show  Kate  that  thing 
Mrs.  Darbisher  sent  you. 

Amy. 

No,  mother,  dear.  You've  said  quite  enough 
things  about  it. 

[Amy  sits  on  the  sofa  and  panics  up  the 
present. 

Kate. 
How  d'you  do,  Bobby !    I  haven't  seen  you. 


124  COUSIN   KATE 

Bobby. 

How  d'you  do,  Cousin  Kate!  I  saw  you  when 
you  didn't  sec  me. 

Kate. 
Did  you?    Where? 

Bobby. 
Gettin'  out  of  the  train  with  Heath. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

How  funny  you  and  Heath  should  travel  to- 
gether, and  you'd  no  idea  who  he  was  ? 

Kate. 
No.    You  never  told  me  he  was  an  Irishman. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  thought  everyone  knew.  [Kate  smiles 
wearily  and  lays  her  sunshade  down.'\  Kate,  you 
look  tired. 

Kate. 

I  am  rather  tired. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
You  ought  to  have  rested  after  your  journey. 

Kate. 
[Wistfully.'\     It  would  have  been  wiser. 


COUSIN   KATE  125 

Amy. 

[Smiles.]     Such    an    exciting    journey,    too. 
[Rises,  with  the  parcel.] 

Kate. 
[Smiling  at  Amy.]     Yes. 

Mks.  Spencer. 
Youll  feel  better  after  supper. 

Amy. 

Come  along,  Bobby.    We'll  put  Mrs.  Darbisher's 
present  among  the  rest, 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Yes.    That  ought  to  make  her  feel  ashamed. 
[Amy  and  Bobby  go  out.    Mrs.  Spencer 
looks  after  them,  smiling  affectionately. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Dear  Amy.     She's  so  happy  again.    You  know 
I  said  it  would  be  all  right  when  you  came. 

Kate. 
[Earnestly.]     I  hope  it  will. 

[Mrs.  Spencer  impressed  hy  her  earnest 
tone  looks  hard  at  her. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Tell  me,  Kate.    Is  this  something  really  serious  ? 


126  COUSIN    KATE 

Kate. 
What? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

What  you  told  me  before  you  went  to  Owlscot. 
You  said  you  were  in  love. 

Kate. 
It's  all  over  now. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Already  ?  I  thought  it  was  only  just  beginning 
from  the  way  you  carried  on. 

Kate. 

.    I  lost  my  head  a  little,  I  suppose,  but  I  soon 
saw  it  couldn't  come  to  anything, 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  should  have  thought  you'd  be  the  last  person 
in  the  world  to  lose  your  head  about  a  man,  with 
all  your  experience. 

Kate. 

[Trying  to  speak  lightly  at  the  heginning  of  her 
speech,  hut  carried  away  by  the  intensity  of  her 
emotion  as  she  proceeds.']  And  boasting.  I  who 
have  written  a  score  of  love-scenes  to  show  you 
how  a  woman  can  turn  a  man  round  her  little  fin- 
ger. I  who  knew  exactly  how  close  the  moth  dare 
fly  to  the  flame.     It's  so  easy  to  be  wise  about 


COUSIN   KATE  127 

love,  if  you  aren't  in  love.  But  when  you've 
given  yourself  body  and  soul,  you  don't  stop  to 
think  of  the  ejffect  you  are  making  —  you  lose 
yourself  —  you  only  see  him,  him —  [Seeing 
Mrs.  Spencer  watching  her  narrowly,  she  checks 
her  emotion  and  says  weakly.l     —  I  should  think. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  hoped  you'd  fallen  in  love  with  someone  nice 
that  you  could  marry. 

Kate. 

[Gravely.]  I  shall  never  marry.  [Trying  to 
laugh  at  herself.]  I  know  they  always  say  that 
[gravely],  but  I  really  shan't. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Why  not? 

Kate. 

There  are  reasons. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Do  you  know  something  against  him  ? 

Kate. 
Oh,  no  —  nothing. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[With  sympathetic  curiosity.]  Perhaps  he 
isn't  in  your  own  position  or  can't  afford  to  sup- 
port you? 


128  COUSIN  KATE 

Kate. 

Oh,  that  wouldn't  matter.  Don*t  let  us  talk 
about  it.  It's  a  shame  to  bother  you  with  my 
troubles  when  you  are  all  so  happy. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

But  I  want  you  to  be  happy,  too.  I  should  so 
like  to  see  you  well  married.  I  often  think  you 
must  be  lonely  living  all  by  yourself. 

Kate. 
[Dejectedly.]     I  have  my  work. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  suppose  that's  it.  You  won't  give  up  your 
work  for  him.  I  don't  see  why  you  can't  have 
both.  You  could  easily  arrange  to  take  three  or 
four  mornings  off  a  week  to  write  in. 

Kate. 

My  dear  funny  Sarah,  don't  say  any  more  about 
it,  or  you'll  make  me  laugh.  [Cries  and  turns 
away  from  Mrs.  Spencer,  wiping  her  eyes.] 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Affectionately.']  Never  mind,  dear,  I  daresay 
it  will  all  work  out  right.  We  shall  soon  be  having 
another  wedding. 


COUSIN   KATE  129 

Kate. 

[Through  her  tears-l  I  shall- never  have  a  wed- 
ding. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Is  he  married  ? 

Kate. 
No. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Engaged  ? 

Kate. 

Yes  —  he's  engaged. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Then  he  must  break  it  off. 

Kate. 
But  what  about  herf 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I'm  sure  she  wouldn't  make  him  half  as  good 
a  wife  as  you  would. 

Kate. 

You  can  talk  like  that  about  her  if  she's  some- 
one you  never  saw  or  heard  of,  but  not  if  she's  an 
alive  person  —  that  you  love. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
That  makes  a  difference,  doesn't  it  ?    It  wouldn't 


180  COUSIN   KATE 

matter  if  she  was  just  Miss  Jones  or  Miss  Smith, 
but  —  if  it  were  Amy  for  instance. 

EIate. 
[Sighing.]     Yes,  —  if  —  it  were  Amy. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Poor  Kate. 

Kate. 

[Bravely  blinking  hack  her  tears.'\  Oh,  well, 
I'm  not  the  first  woman  who  gave  her  heart  to 
the  wrong  man.  I  shan't  die  of  it.  [Breaking 
down.]     I  wish  I  could. 

[Amy  and  Bobby  enter.  Kate  goes  out 
quickly  without  noticing  them.  Bobby 
closes  the  door  after  her. 

Bobby  and  Amy. 

[Looking  after  Kate.]  What's  the  matter  with 
Cousin  Kate  ? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

She's  caught  a  chill.  [To  Amy.]  What  time 
is  Heath  coming  ? 

Amy. 

He  didn't  say.  I  suppose  he'll  come  as  soon  as 
he  has  changed  his  things. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

He  may  not  come  till  after  supper  if  we  don't 
ask  him.    Bobby,  run  round  to  Heath's  lodgings 


COUSIN    KATE  131 

and  say  we  expect  him  to  supper.     We'll  put  it 
half  an  hour  later  to  give  him  time. 

Bobby. 
All  right.     [Goes  out  at  the  window.'] 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

We  must  give  Heath  a  rousing  welcome.  I'll 
put  on  my  black  silk,  and  you  can  wear  your  new 
christaline  muslin.  I  hope  the  fowl  will  go  round. 
[Her  attention  is  attracted  by  something  outside.] 
Oh,  there's  Mr.  Bartlett  coming  round  the  corner. 
I  wonder  where  he's  going.     [Goes  to  the  window.] 

Amy. 
\_Embarrassed.]     I  expect  he's  coming  here. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
He  wouldn't  come  here  at  supper  time. 

Amy. 

Yes,  I  asked  him  —  a  long  time  ago  —  before 
Cousin  Kate  came. 

[Mrs.  Spencer  turns  to  Amy,  visibly  an- 
noyed. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Oh,  Amy!  And  I  thought  we  were  going  to 
have  such  a  nice  little  supper  all  by  ourselves,  and 
now  —  with  Mr.  Bartlett  here  —  we  can't  laugh. 


132  COUSIN   KATE 

Amy. 
It  can't  be  helped  now. 

Mes.  Spencer. 
It  could  have  been  helped  before. 

Amy. 
Shall  I  tell  Jane  to  excuse  ns? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Wavering.']  I  wonder.  Do  you  think  we 
could?  \_Bows  and  smiles  amiably  from  the  win- 
dow.] Good  evening,  Mr.  Bartlett.  [Turns 
gloomily  to  Amy.]  It's  too  late  now.  I  suppose 
there's  nothing  for  it  but  to  look  as  if  we  were 
expecting  him.  [Sits  down,  looking  very  cross.] 
The  fowl  won't  go  round. 

Amy. 

[LooJcing  anxiously  at  her  mother.]  Do  say 
something  pleasant  and  put  him  at  his  ease. 

[Jane  enters. 
Jane. 
Mr.  Bartlett! 

[Mr.  Bartlett  enters.  Mrs.  Spencer 
rises  and  greets  him  with  cordiality, 
shakes  his  hand.    Jane  goes  out. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Well,  Mr.  Bartlett,  this  is  a  pleasant  surprise. 


COUSIN   KATE  133 

Amy. 
Not  a  surprise,  mother. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Oh,  no  —  [with  a  look  at  Amy]  .  No,  of  course 
not.    We've  been  waiting  a  long  time. 

Bartlett. 
I'm  afraid  I'm  late. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Confiised.']     Oh,   no,  but  — 

Amy. 

[Coining  to  the  rescue.'\  She  means  Heath. 
He's  coming  to  supper.  That  is  our  pleasant  sur- 
prise. 

[Bartlett  looJcs  gravely  at  Amy.    She  re- 
turns his  look,  then  turns  away. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[To  Amy.]  Yes.  [To  Bartlett.]  I  didn't 
mean  you  were  a  pleasant  surprise. 

[Amy  and  Mrs.  Spencer  give  an  awkward 
laugh. 

Amy. 

Oh,  mother.  [Hurriedly  to  Mrs.  Spencer.] 
I'll  tell  Jane  to  set  two  extra  places. 

[Amy  goes  out.    Mrs.  Spencer  and  Mr. 
Bartlett  sit  down  together. 


134  COUSIN   KATE 

Bahtlett. 

[Impressively.]  I  presume  I  am  correct  in 
surmising  that  Mr.  Desmond's  escapade  is  for- 
given ? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Well,  yes.  Amy  saw  him  this  afternoon  at 
Owlscot  and  they  seem  to  have  made  it  up. 

Bartlett. 

Does  she  know  about  that  conversation  you  and 
1  had  before  she  sent  her  letter  to  him  ? 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Smiling  uneasily.']  Well,  no.  You  see  the 
engagement  was  never  really  broken  off,  so  I 
couldn't  very  well  say  anything  —  could  I  ?    No, 

Bartlett. 

There  was  a  distinct  understanding  between  us 
that  she  should  be  given  her  choice. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

I  suppose  there  was  —  in  a  way.  [Jane  enters, 
with  a  lamp  turned  low,  which  she  sets  on  the 
table.  Mrs.  Spencer,  relieved  by  this  interrup- 
tion, exclaims  cheerfully.]  Oh,  here's  Jane  with 
the  lamp.  [Springs  up.]  Now,  Mr.  Bartlett,  per- 
haps you  would  like  to  smoke  while  we  are  dress- 
ing.   You  do  smoke,  don't  you? 


COUSIN   KATE  135 

Baetlett. 

[7w  his  genial  manner,  because  of  Jane's  pres' 
ence.^     I  occasionally  indulge  in  a  weed. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

We  allow  smoking  —  in  the  summer  house., 
[Bartlett  goes  out  by  the  window,  taking 
a  cigar  from  his  pocket.  Jane  is  ab- 
sorbed, turning  up  the  lamp,  peering 
closely  at  it.  Kate  enters  in  the  same 
dress,  but  without  her  hat. 

Kate. 
I  think  I  left  my  sunshade  here. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Did  you,  dear? 

[Mrs.  Spencer  goes  out. 

Kate. 
Have  you  seen  it,  Jane? 

Jane. 

[Taking  the  sunshade  from  the  desk.^     Here  it 
is.  Miss. 

Katb. 

[Taking  it  from  Jane.]     Thank  you. 

Jane. 
[Grinning.]     I  thought  it  didn't  look  like  one 


136  COUSIN   KATE 

of  ours.  We  always  get  a  sight  of  the  fashions 
when  you  come.  [Kate  is  about  to  go  to  the  door 
and  stops  when  Jane  speaks.}  We  shall  be  quite 
a  party  at  supper,  Miss. 

Kate. 
Why?    WJio's  coming ? 

Jane. 
There's  Mr.  Bartlett,  and  Mr.  'eath  — 

Kate. 

[Aside.']  Heath.  [To  Jane.]  Come  to  my 
room  and  tell  me  as  soon  as  he  comes. 

Jane. 

Yes,  miss.  [The  front  door  hell  rings.]  I  ex- 
pect that's  him  now. 

Kate. 

[Giving  her  sunshade  to  Jane.]  Please  put 
this  in  the  hall. 

[Jane  takes  the  sunshade  and  goes  out. 

Kate. 

[Talking  to  herself  to  control  herself.]  Keep 
your  head,  Kate  —  be  brave,  dear;  he  mustn't 
think  you  care.  Don't  cry  —  for  goodness'  sake, 
don't  cry. 


COUSIN   KATE  137 

[Heath  enters.    He  now  wears  a  blue  serge 
suit. 

Heath. 

Ah. !  Now  we  have  a  chance  to  explain  ourselves 
while  they  are  dressing. 

Kate. 

[Controlling  her  emotion  successfully  during  the 
early  part  of  the  scene.]     I  have  explained  myself. 

Heath. 

No,  you  haven't. 

Kate. 

I  only  want  to  add  that  I  feel  very  much 
ashamed;  I  should  never  have  done  what  I  did  if 
I'd  known  you  were  engaged  to  Amy.  I  waited 
here  now  to  ask  you  what  you  are  going  to  say  to 
her. 

Heath. 

That  depends  on  you. 

Kate. 

[Alarmed,  hut  trying  to  hide  it.]  You  must 
keep  me  out  of  your  reckoning  altogether. 

Heath. 

I  can't.  I've  been  thinking  it  all  over  this  last 
half-hour,  and  I  see  that  you  must  have  been  in 
earnest.  No  one  could  act  love  like  that.  It 
wouldn't  be  worth  while. 


^COUSIN   KATE 

Kate. 

[Assuming  flippancy. Ji  Except  to  a  novelist 
getting  copy. 

Heath. 

Please  don't  talk  that  way  about  it. 

Kate. 

[Facing  him.}  We  must  understand  each 
other  now. 

Heath. 

You  mean  you  were  just  dissecting  emotion, 
analysing  passion  —  for  experience  —  to  put  in 
a  book? 

Kate. 

[Uneasily.']     Yes  —  that  was  it. 

Heath. 

If  you  meant  to  amuse  yourself,  making  a  fool 
of  me  — 

Kate. 

[Interrupting.]     I'm  sorry  I  hurt  you. 

Heath. 

Yes,  but  why  did  you  try  to  stop  me  coming  in 
the  house  —  why  did  you  keep  me  at  arm's  length 
for  ever  so  long  ? 

Kate. 

[Uneasily;  assuming  flippancy.]  It's  part  of 
the  game  to  seem  reluctant  at  first. 


COUSIN   KATE  139 

Heath. 

[Abruptly.']  Why  did  you  tremble  so  when  I 
touched  your  hand  ? 

Kate. 
[TaJcen  aback  by  his  abrupt  question.]     Did  I  ? 

Heath. 
Yes,  and  you  stammered  and  flushed. 

Kate. 

I  had  to  keep  saying  to  myself  —  "  Now  what 
would  a  woman  who  really  felt  it  all  do  here?" 
She'd  tremble  and  stammer  —  she'd  — 

Heath. 
[Watching  her  calmly.']     That's  silly. 

Kate. 

It's  my  explanation.  [Sits  down,  looking  away 
from  him.] 

Heath. 

She  might  tremble  and  stammer  intentionally, 
but  she  couldn't  flush  unless  she  felt.  No  one  can. 
You  were  afraid  then,  really  afraid.  You  started 
to  go,  but  you  didn't  go  —  you  stayed.  Oh>  no, 
you  weren't  playing  then. 

Kate. 

One  must  be  a  little  bit  in  earnest  or  there's  no 
excitement  in  a  flirtation. 


140  COUSIN   KATE 

Heath. 

If  ours  was  a  flirtation,  what  is  there  left  for 
love? 

Kate. 

Did  I  flirt  so  well  you  couldn't  tell  the  differ- 
ence? 

Heath. 

You  didn't  flirt  fair.  Flirtation  is  a  game  with 
rules,  and  you  cheated. 

EIate. 

I've  told  you  I'm  ashamed.  Won't  you  accept 
my  apology  ? 

Heath. 

[Hardens  his  face  and  his  voice,  going  a  step 
to  her  as  he  spealcs.']  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think 
of  a  woman  who  deliberately  sets  to  work  to  steal 
a  man's  love  —  without  pity  or  passion,  just  to 
try  her  power  and  satisfy  her  vanity? 

Kate. 

[Falteringly.'\  You  can  if  you  like.  I  daresay 
I've  deserved  it. 

[Heath  looks  at  her  in  silence;  then  his 
face  relaxes.  He  speaks  with  a  sudden 
hurst  of  genuine  emotion. 

Heath. 

Oh,  I  —  I  don't  believe  it  of  you.  I've  only  to 
look  at  you  to  see  you  aren't  a  fraud.     [Kate 


COUSIN   KATE  141 

keyed  up  to  hear  him  denounce  her  is  thrown  off 
her  guard  hy  his  unexpected  speech.  She  looks 
up  cd  him  gratefully.  He  kneels  heside  her  speak' 
ing  with  increasing  emotion.}  I  know  you  love 
me,  I  never  opened  my  heart  to  anyone  as  I  did 
to  you.  It  seems  so  natural  to  say  everything  to 
you,  just  as  I  think  of  it.  I'd  be  ashamed  to  talk 
such  foolishness  to  anybody  else  —  [smiling  at 
her]  —  about  Silverloeks  and  the  squirrels  and 
our  little  house  in  the  wood. 

Kate. 

[Puts  out  her  hand  as  if  to  stop  him  speaking.'] 
Listen.  Let  me  tell  you.  When  I  found  out  that 
you  were  Amy's  lover,  I  was  so  afraid.  I  thought 
I'd  taken  you  from  her.  So  I  pretended  I'd  only 
been  flirting.  I  thought  it  was  the  only  way  to 
end  it.  But  I  can't  do  it  any  more.  [She  rises, 
moving  about  as  she  speaks.  He  rises,  too,  watch- 
ing her.]  We  might  have  known  it  would  come  to 
no  good,  beginning  like  that. 

Heath. 

[Half -sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  table  in  the 
same  attitude  and  speaking  with  the  same  tone 
of  enthusiasm  as  he  spoke  a  similar  speech  near 
the  beginning  of  Act  II,  that  he  recalls,  now  un- 
consciously, reproducing  the  same  effect.]  It 
began  so  perfectly,  didn't  it?  How  we  flew 
through  the  woods  and  over  the  towns  —  a  god 
and  a  goddess  dropped  from  two  planets,  do  you 
remember  ? 


142  COUSIN   KATE 

Kate.  | 

[Very  seriously,  facing  him.]  But  now  we've 
facts  to  face,  not  romances. 

Heath. 

[With  enthiisiasm.]  The  beauty  of  it  is  that 
you  and  I  can  turn  facts  into  romances.  A  third- 
class  railway  carriage  becomes  a  royal  chariot 
when  we  ride  in  it  together.  I  think  our  meet- 
ing was  the  greatest  thing  that  ever  happened  in 
this  world. 

Kate. 

To  us,  but  only  to  us.  The  world  didn't  cry 
for  joy  when  we  met.     It  was  only  you  and  I. 

Heath. 

[Quietly.]  You  know  Amy  did  tell  me  she 
couldn't  marry  me  unless  I  changed. 

Kate. 

Be  patient  with  her.  She's  young  yet,  and 
she's  sorry.  She's  getting  all  ready  for  her  wed- 
ding.    You  can't  leave  her  now. 

Heath. 

It  isn't  that  I  don't  care  what  becomes  of  Amy. 
I've  tried  very  hard  to  be  fair  to  her  —  I  gave 
her  a  chance  to  call  me  back  if  she  wanted  me. 


COUSIN   KATE  143 

Kate. 
She  did  call  you  back. 

Heath. 

Not  for  a  long  time.  I  waited  more  than  an 
hour. 

Kate. 

An  hour !     That's  not  long  in  a  lifetime. 

Heath. 

It's  long  in  the  crisis  of  a  lifetime.  If  I'd 
told  you  I  considered  myself  free  if  you  didn't  call 
me  back  at  once,  you  wouldn't  have  kept  me  wait- 
ing a  whole  hour  before  you  sent.  You'd  have 
come  yourself  —  wouldn't  you  ? 

[Comes  close  to  her. 

Kate. 
[Firmly.l     I  can't  marry  you. 

Heath. 
[With  sudden  alarm.l     You're  not  engaged? 

Kate. 
No. 

Heath. 

[Relieved.']  Ah!  You  gave  me  such  a  start 
for  a  moment. 

Kate. 

But  I  can't  take  you   from  her.     You   don't 


144  COUSIN   KATE 

know  how  this  little  family  trust  me.  They  said 
things  would  be  better  when  I  came.  And  just 
now,  after  Amy  had  seen  you,  they  were  all  so 
happy  again.  All  their  clouds  had  gone  and  they 
said  Cousin  Kate  had  rolled  them  away,  so  how 
could  I  be  the  one  to  take  you  from  them? 

Heath. 

But  there's  you  and  I,  too,  with  long  lives  to 
live.  Think  what  they'll  be  if  we  live  them  to- 
gether. Think  what  they'll  be  if  we  don't.  I 
want  to  do  the  straight  thing.  I'm  sure  it's  more 
honest  to  tell  Amy  the  truth.  [Mr.  Bartlett 
slowly  passes  the  window  without,  smoking.^ 
There's  Bartlett,  I'll  ask  him.  [Ooes  to  the  win- 
dow.] 

Kate. 


[Alarmed.'l 

No. 

Heath. 

Why   not? 
course. 

I   won't   mention 
Kate. 

your 

name. 

of 

But  you  and  I  don't  go  by  what 

he  says. 

Heath. 

No,  but  they  do.  [Goes  to  the  window  and 
calls.]  Bartlett!  [Mr.  Bartlett  throws  end  of 
cigar  away  and  enters  by  the  window.]  I've  got 
rather  a  hard  nut  to  crack,  and  I  want  to  ask 
you  what  you  think.     You  know  about  me  going 


COUSIN   KATE  145 

away,  and  —  it  wasn't  all  my  fault,  but  after  I 
went  —  well,  the  fact  is  I've  fallen  in  love  vsith 
somebody  else  and  I  want  to  know  what  you  think 
I  ought  to  do? 

Baetlett. 

[Impressively.'\  This  is  a  most  grievous  state 
of  affairs. 

Heath. 

Yes,  but  there  isn't  time  for  all  that.  I  must 
meet  Amy  in  a  minute.  I  think  I  ought  to  tell 
her  the  truth,  and —  [indicating  Kate]  she 
thinks  I  ought  not  to.     What  do  you  think? 

Baetlett. 

I  think  a  man  should  speak  the  truth  at  all 
seasons. 

Heath. 

Now,  that  makes  me  hesitate.  When  I  see  my 
duty  and  inclination  looking  the  same,  I  always 
begin  to  suspect  myself. 

Baetlett. 

Before  I  knew  what  your  inclination  was  I 
thought  it  advisable  to  break  off  this  engagement, 
I  said  so  when  I  brought  your  message. 

Heath. 
Did  you  tell  Amy  so? 


146  COUSIN   KATE 

Baetlett. 
I  was  prepared  to  do  so,  but  I  was  not  allowed. 

Heath. 
Why? 

Baetlett. 

[Indicating  Kate.]  This  lady  can  tell  you. 
She  was  with  Miss  Spencer  when  she  wrote  that 
letter  I  brought  you. 

Heath. 
[To  Kate.]     Did  you  urge  her  to  write  it? 

Kate. 

I  only  put  the  case  plainly  before  her.  She 
made  her  own  choice. 

Baetlett. 

[With  repressed  resentment.']  You  took  great 
pains  to  prevent  me  seeing  her. 

Kate. 

[Answering  Mm  in  the  same  tone.]  Because 
you  were  trying  to  take  an  unfair  advantage  of 
her. 

Baetlett. 

Eeally,  I  must  take  exception  — 

Kate. 
[Interrupting  him.]     There's  no  time  to  mince 


COUSIN   KATE  147 

matters.  The  happiness  of  this  whole  family  is 
at  stake  —  more  than  that  —  their  faith  in  all 
human  nature  through  us  three.  I  can't  stand 
seeing  their  hearts  broken  by  our  selfishness. 

Bartlett. 

[Solemnly.^  I  am  not  actuated  by  selfishness 
in  the  discharge  of  my  duties. 

Kate. 

[Turning  on  Mm  indignantly.]  You  don*t  see 
through  yourself.  You  are  so  sure  of  your  own 
goodness  you  never  search  your  motives.  You 
smother  them  up  with  long  words  and  tell  your- 
self you  are  doing  the  Will  of  Heaven  —  because 
it  suits  you.     You're  not  honest  with  yourself  — 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Calling  off  stage.]     Amy ! 

Kate. 
[Imploringly  to  Heath.]     She's  coming. 

Amy. 
[Calling  off  stage.]     I'm  coming. 

Bartlett. 

[Ooing  close  to  Heath.]  If  you  wish  to  break 
your  engagement  now,  I  am  ready  to  propose  to 
her  myself. 


148  COUSIN   KATE 

Heath. 

You  want  to  strike  a  bargain  with  me.  No, 
I'm  —  no.  I  won't —  [To  Kate.]  You  are 
right;  I'll  keep  my  promise  to  Amy.  [Enter 
Mrs.  Spencer  in  her  black  silk,  followed  by  Amy 
in  her  new  dress,  then  Bobby,  in  an  Eton  suit. 
They  all  smile  with  embarrassment  and  came  in 
a  procession  towards  Heath.  Bobby  closes  the 
door.} 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Holding  out  her  hand  to  Heath.]  Welcome 
home. 

Bartlett. 

[Standing  behind  a  chair,  speaks  with  serious 
formality  so  thai  ^^^V  oXl  turn  to  him.'\  Mrs. 
Spencer,  Miss  Spencer,  all  of  you.  It  will  soon 
be  my  solemn  task  to  say  to  the  congregation, 
"If  any  man  can  show  any  just  cause  why  these 
two  persons  may  not  lawfully  be  joined  together, 
let  him  now  speak  or  else  hereafter  forever  hold 
his  peace." 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

What  do  you  mean? 

Bartlett. 

Mr.  Desmond  has  just  made  me  a  confession.  If 
he  will  not  repeat  it,  the  painful  duty  devolves 
upon  me. 

Amy. 

[Stepping  forward.'}     No,  I  don't  want  to  hear        * 


COUSIN   KATE  149 

it.  If  Heath  has  done  anything  he's  ashamed 
of,  he'll  tell  me  and  I'll  forgive  him.  He  has 
plenty  of  things  to  forgive  me,  I'll  gladly  forgive 
him  one. 

[Mr.  Bartlett  turns  and  goes  slowly  into 
the  garden.  Kate  comes  towards  Amy 
and  embraces  her. 

Kate. 
[Brohenly.1     Bless  you.  Amy. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Talcing  her  cue  from  Kate,  presses  Heath's 
hand.'l  Bless  you,  Heath.  Mr.  Bartlett  always 
upsets  me  so.  He  has  no  tact.  [Turns  to  Amy.] 
I  suppose  he'll  still  stay  to  supper. 

[Goes  out.     Bobby  follows  her. 

Amy. 

[Smiling  at  Kate.]     Congratulate  Heath,  too. 
[Kate  and  Heath  grasp  hands,  looking 
steadily   at   each   other  for  a  moment. 
Then   Kate   withdraws  her   hand  and 
goes  out. 

Amy. 

[Crossing  to  the  sofa.']  Heath!  [Heath  sits 
on  the  sofa  with  Amy.]  Before  you  confess  to 
me,  I  think  I  had  better  confess  to  you.  I  have 
been  guilty  of  a  very  grave  offence  since  you  vrent 
away. 


150  COUSIN   KATE 

Heath. 

[Dejectedly.]  I  seem  to  have  been  born  to 
make  trouble. 

Amy. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  my  uncertainty  —  not 
knowing  if  you  would  come  back  or  not  —  some- 
one came  and  spoke  to  me  in  a  way  I  ought  not 
to  have  allowed,  because  I  was  still  engaged  to 
you.     [Faltering.'l     And  I  let  him  go  on. 

Heath. 
Do  you  mean  he  asked  you  to  marry  him? 

Amy. 
He  was  beginning  to.     Then  Cousin  Kate  came. 

Heath. 
So  he  didn't  finish? 

Amy. 
No. 

Heath. 
Then  what  have  I  got  to  blame  you  for? 

Amy. 

My  wicked  thoughts.  [Heath  gives  a  quaint 
tired  look  away  from  her.']  If  Cousin  Kate 
hadn't  come  he  would  have  finished. 


COUSIN   KATE  151 

Heath. 
And  would  you  have  accepted  him? 

Amy. 

[Hanging  her  head.']     Yes. 

Heath. 

[Distressed.']  To  think  I  should  almost  have 
driven  you  to  marry  a  man  you  didn't  love. 

Amy. 

[In  mild  reproach.']  Oh,  Heath!  I  should 
never  sink  so  low  as  that. 

Heath. 

[Taken  aback,  smiles,  and  turns  to  look  at  her.] 
Do  you  love  him? 

Amy. 

I  felt  as  if  I  could  then,  hut  now  —  I  have 
succeeded  in  banishing  him  completely  from  my 
mind. 

Heath. 

Am  I  standing  between  you  and  him? 

Amy. 

No,  Heath.  There  is  no  question  of  that.  He 
had  no  right  to  speak  to  me,  and  I  had  no  right 
to  listen.  I  shall  never  so  forget  myself  again. 
I  am  quite  ready  to  become  your  wife. 


162  COUSIN    KATE 

Heath. 
But  I  don't  want  you  to  sacrifice  yourself. 

Amy. 

I  am  sure  you  will  do  everything  to  make  me 
happy. 

Heath. 

But  if  he  could  make  you  happier  — 

Amy. 
Oh,  Heath,  I  don't  want  to  spoil  your  life. 

Heath. 

Thank  you  very  much.  And  of  course  I  don't 
want  to  spoil  yours.  You  know  you  haven't  been 
quite  satisfied  with  me.  You  wanted  me  to 
change. 

Amy. 

I  see  now  that  it  was  presumption  for  a  girl 
like  me  to  speak  so  to  a  man  like  you.  You  are 
so  good  and  clever  and  I've  never  been  anywhere 
particular.  You  know  we  must  expect  to  make 
compromises  when  we  marry.  I  am  prepared  to 
do  this. 

Heath. 

Yes,  but  ought  you  to? 

Amy. 
I  think  I  shall  get  into  Heaven  sooner  by  keep- 


COUSIN   KATE  153 

ing  my  promises  to  you  than  by  thinking  only 
of  my  own  soul.  Oh,  you  needn't  be  afraid  that  I 
shall  take  my  promise  back  now. 

Heath. 

Suppose  I  release  you  from  it  —  suppose  that 
you'd  never  made  it  —  and  that  I  and  this  other 
man  came  and  offered  you  marriage.  Which  of 
us  would  you  choose? 

Amy. 
^Hanging  her  head.']     I  haven't  thought. 

Heath. 

ISmiles.]  Do  think.  It's  really  rather  im- 
portant. 

Amy. 

I  know  it's  very  wrong  to  feel  as  I  do. 

Heath. 

[Kindly.]  No,  it  isn't.  We  can't  any  of  us 
help  feeling  as  we  do. 

Amy. 

You  see,  it's  this  way.  I  think  perhaps  I'm 
more  cut  out  for  a  clergyman's  wife  —  than  an 
artist's. 

Heath. 

Is  the  clergyman  more  cut  out  for  you  than  the 
artist  is?    That's  what  I  want  to  get  at. 


154  COUSIN   KATE 

Amy. 

I  can't  help  feeling  that  he  and  I  have  more 
in  common  than  you  and  I  have. 

Heath. 

Yes,  hut  if  you  were  free  now  —  would  he 
finish  what  he  was  saying  when  Cousin  Kate 
came? 

Amy. 

I  think  so. 

Heath. 
You  are  free  if  you  wish  it. 

Amy. 

[Rdieved.'l  Oh,  Heath,  how  generous  you 
are!  [He  smiles  at  her  and  takes  her  hand  as 
a  friend.  She  looks  at  him  seriously.]  It  doesn't 
seem  to  hurt  you  as  much  as  I  feared. 

Heath. 

[Oravely  and  kindly.']  Isn't  it  better  for 
neither  of  us  to  have  anything  to  reproach  the 
other  with? 

Amy. 

[Awkwardly.]  Yes  —  thank  you —  [Draws 
her  hand  away.]     Thank  you. 

Heath. 
[Embarrassed.]     Not    at    all.      [He    wanders 


COUSIN   KATE  155 

away  and  sits  at  some  distance  from  Amy.] 

[A  gong  sounds. 
Amy. 

That's  for  supper. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[Heard  off.']  Now,  then,  you  two,  I'm  coming. 
[Poking  her  head  in  playfully  at  the  door,  before 
she  enters,  expecting  to  surprise  them  in  an  affec- 
tionate attitude.  She  is  greatly  surprised  to  find 
them  seated  far  apart.]  Well!  That's  a  new- 
fashioned  way  for  an  engaged  couple  to  sit. 
[Heath  and  Amy  rise,  embarrassed.] 

[Enter  Mrs.  Spencer  and  Bobby,  followed 

by  Kate.     Mr.  Bartlett  enters  at  the 

window. 

Amy. 
[Awkwardly.]     We  are  not  an  engaged  couple. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Amazed.]     What ! 

Heath. 

Amy  finds  she  isn't  cut  out  for  an  artist's 
wife. 

Amy. 

So  Heath  has  very  kindly  released  me  from 
my  engagement  —  Y-es  — 

[There  is  an  uncomfortable  pause.     Then 


156  COUSIN   KATE 

Amy  hastens  into  the  garden.  Mr. 
Bartlett,  after  a  circular  glance  at  the 
others,  follows  her. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

[With  her  back  to  Amy  and  Mr.  Bartlett,  as 
they  go  out.]  Whose  fault  is  it?  Mr.  Bartlett's, 
I  suppose.  Oh,  Mr.  Bartlett,  I  forgot  you  were 
here.     [Looks  round  the  room.']     Where  is  he? 

Bobby. 

Out  in  the  garden  with  Amy. 

[Mrs.  Spencer  marches  straight  towards 
the  window. 

Heath, 

[Preventing  her  from  going  out.]  Don't  in- 
terrupt them.  They  love  each  other.  She  told 
me  so  a  moment  ago. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
Oh,  Kate!     What  shall  we  do? 

Kate. 
Leave  them. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

You  know  you  can't  bear  him. 

Kate. 
That's  no  reason  why  Amy  shouldn't  love  him. 


COUSIN   KATE  157 

He's  a  good  man.  I  haven't  the  least  doubt  that 
he  is  held  in  the  highest  esteem  all  over  the 
parish.  She'll  love,  honour  and  obey  him  and 
never  see  through  him  —  and  then,  he's  her 
choice. 

[Amy  and  Baetlett  enter  at  the  window. 

Amy. 

[Comes     towards     Mrs.     Spencer.]     Mother, 
James  has  something  to  say  to  you. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
[Severely.']  Who's  James?  [Amy  indicates 
Bartlett,  who  stands  smiling  in  an  embarrassed 
manner  in  the  background.  Mrs.  Spencer  takes 
Amy  on  one  side.]  But,  Amy,  it  looks  so  fast 
for  you  to  be  engaged  to  one  man  one  moment 
and  another  one  the  next.     I  don't  like  it. 

[Jane  bursts  in. 
Jane. 
Please,  mum,  the  fowl's  growing  cold. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 
We're  coming.  [Jane  goes  out,  leaving  the 
door  open.  Mrs.  Spencer  turns  to  Mr.  Bart- 
lett.]  Will  you  take  Amy  in  to  supper  — 
James?  [Heath  and  Kate  both  give  a  smoth- 
ered laugh.  Baetlett  smiles  at  Amy.  Mrs. 
Spencer  says  sympathetically  to  Heath.]  Heath, 
will  it  be  too  painful  for  you  to  remain? 


158  COUSIN   KATE    . 

Heath. 
[Smiling.']     I'll  try  to  bear  it. 

Mrs.  Spencer. 

Then  please  bring   Cousin   Kate.     [Turns   to 
Bobby.]     The  fowl  will  have  to  go  round. 

[Mrs.  Spencer  goes  out  with  Bobby. 
Mr.  Bartlett  smilingly  offers  his  arm 
to  Amy.  They  go  out  together,  leaving 
Heath  and  Kate  alone^  facing  each 
other. 

Heath. 
Now,  will  you  marry  me? 

Kate. 

Shure,  and  I  will. 

[They  go  out  arm  in  arm. 


CURTAIN. 


Ct)t  William  5^arrtn  CtJttion 
of  Paps 


iC  Vftll  I IVV  IT  Comedy  in  Five  Acta.  Thirteen  males,  four 
Ad  IvL  JUIbG  II  females.  CoBtumos.plctiiresquo;  sceuery,  va- 
ried.   Plays  a  full  evening. 

r  41111 1  B  Drama  In  Five  Acts.  Nine  malea,  Ave  females.  Cos- 
vAiIllJL(L«C    tumes,  modern ;  scenery,  varied.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

IMAAMiD  Pi»y  in  ^^^  Acts.  Thirteen  males,  three  females. 
inuUm AlV   Scenery  varied ;  costumes,  Greek.  Plays  a  full  evening. 

M4DV  5TI1ADT  Tragedy  in  Five  Acts.  Thirteen  males,  four  fe- 
niAKI  i5  1 1) Alii  males,  and  supernumeraries.  Costumeb,  of  the 
period  ;  scenery,  varied  and  elaborate.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

THE  MiRCBANT  OF  VENICE  S.Te«erf?ml?^s:  lSl!!l 

picturesque ;  scenery  varied.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

DiriTKI  ren  Play  in  Five  Acts.  Fifteen  males,  two  females.  Scen- 
IVlVllKL(l£U  ery  elaborate ;  costumes  of  the  period.  Plays  &  full 
evening. 

THP  DlVil^    Comedy  In  Five  Acts.    Nine  males,  five  females. 
1 IIE  III  T  AL(t?    Scenery  varied ;  costun 
full  evening. 


costumes  of  the  period.    Plfiys  a 


SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER    maTes.foiirfemfles.*  scenery  va- 
ried ;  costumes  of  the  period.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

TWELFTH  NIfiBT;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  '^Z% '"  ^'^" 


three  females, 
full  evening. 


Acts.  Ten  males, 
Costumes,  picturesque ;  scenery,  varied.     Plays  a 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

Walttt  ^.  'Bafeer  &  Compani? 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 


